Quotes About Ownership

Your leave to sit." "The countryside is as much yours as mine, sir." "Damn you then, I'll sit." "It's hardly needful you should send me to Hell for that. But then, you have another way in mind.

That meant Ms. Starkova was his. He'd found her; he'd tailed her; and he'd saved her from Reinhard Klein. By jungle law, even the urban jungle, that made her his.

Mission of mercy, he said, straightening up, his voice so cold, he could have owned the patent.

I've already said you can't take anything from me that I wouldn't freely give you.

Humans, both personally and collectively, slaved away to possess various treasures and then spent their lives protecting them in the belief that what they had worked so hard to possess would make them whole.

My boyfriend keeps telling me I've got to own things. So, first I bought this car. And then he told me I oughta get a house. 'Why a house?' 'Well, you gotta have a place to park the car.'

Wherefore we be not only His by His buying, but also by the courteous gift of His Father we be His bliss, we be His meed, we be His worship, we be His crown. (And this was a singular marvel and a full delectable beholding, that we be His crown!)

Most of all I'm mad at Swanee for dying and taking from me the most precious thing I ever owned. I didn't own her, but she was mine. Mine, Liana. Do you hear me?

Whose book is it anyway? The hardest thing a writer has to learn is that once you publish a book, it's no longer truly yours – even though it's got your name on the front and it lives inside you. It belongs to the readers now. All you can do is steel yourself as you push it out into the world, stay gracious, and get busy with the next one.

Still, who, I wondered, owns the disappearing story that, in, part, they tell? The story of the teacher and the children lives now in so few places: on that weather-beaten wall, in scrapbooks filled with photographs. History isn't a sculptured cup; it's more like a sieve through which so many stories pass and disappear.

What we give the world, we have borrowed from no one; it is ours. It may be taken from us, stolen from us, but imitated? - never.

Memory weaves and traps us at the same time according to a scheme in which we do not participate: we should never speak of our memory, for it is anything but ours; it works on its own terms, it assists us while deceiving us or perhaps deceives up to assist us.

y los gatos, siempre inevitablemente los minouche morrongos miaumiau kitten kat chat cat gatto grises y blancos y negros y de albañal, dueños del tiempo y de las baldosas tibias, invariables amigos de la Maga que sabía hacerles cosquillas en la barriga y les hablaba un lenguaje entre tonto y misterioso, con citas a plazo fijo, consejos y advertencias.

Piensa en ésto, cuando te regalan un reloj te regalan algo que es tuyo pero que no es tu cuerpo, que hay que atar a tu cuerpo con su correa como un bracito desesperado colgándose de tu muñeca. Te regalan la necesidad de darle cuerda todos los días, te regalan el miedo de perderlo, de que te lo roben, de que se te caiga al suelo y se rompa. Te regalan la tendencia a comparar un reloj con los demás relojes... no te regalan un reloj, tú eres el regalado.

Probablemente de todos nuestros sentimientos el único que no es verdaderamente nuestro es la esperanza. La esperanza le pertenece a la vida, es la vida misma defendiéndose.

Figuring out what is your stuff and what is other people's stuff can be a lifelong journey.

I wanted to boast to everyone,"This woman is mine. Take a look at my treasure.

For the first time I actually feel like I owned my skin, like it was me and I was it.

In December we move into the house. It's a half-ruin and only two rooms are habitable. It resembles the first place I lived when I arrived in this country. We don't have heat for the entire winter, and for a month we have to bathe from a bucket. Casa de Campo, I call the place in jest, but he doesn't take kindly to any criticism of his "niño." Not everyone can own a home, he reminds me. I saved eight years for this.

Sua vida lhe era tão estranha que não parecia mais ser sua, se é que algum dia tinha sido.

It was possible, he understood, for a person's life to become just a long series of mistakes, and that the end, when it came, was just one more instance in a chain of bad choices. The thing was, most of these mistakes were actually borrowed from other people. You took their bad ideas and, for whatever reason, made them your own.

It was possible, he understood, for a person's life to become just a long series of mistakes, and that the end, when it came, was just one more mistake in a chain of bad choices. The thing was, most of these mistakes were actually borrowed from other people. You took their bad ideas, and for whatever reason, made them your own.

Throughout history, wars were won and lost based on maps — who had the best maps, who had the inaccurate ones, who owned the boundary lines, who knew the terrain. And I knew the terrain of my family intimately, our private fears, our embarrassing weaknesses, our cached secrets.

We hold that you can't own anything that four strong men can't lift.