Quotes From The Dead Poets Society Novels & Stories

“You were reading Dostoevsky,” “I wasn’t reading it, I was holding it.” “I know, I could tell.” I looked at her across the classroom. She looked at me. The room was very quiet. “Lady Lazarus,” I said. She looked at the board. Picked up the marker from the ledge. Turned to the board. Wrote- Lady Lazarus: Stanza V. Underlined it. Then underneath: I eat men like air. She put the marker down. Turned back to face the room.

Nesryn looked right into my eyes. “Vivamus, moriendum est. A quote from your world which means — let us live, for we must die. When you know you’re gonna die, why don’t you live as you always wanted to? Yeah, maybe you will die sooner because you offend someone or you disobey someone, but you’ll be happy and grateful to yourself that even if for a second, you lived your life on your terms.” She cleared her throat, her voice slightly hoarse.

she paused for a second before yelling even louder, "Hey, I can give you tips!" “How beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken,” Mr. Eller, my AP Lit teacher read the quote out loud as he stood in front of the class. “Now, what do you think Tennessee Williams meant by that?” One kid raised his hand and said, “I think he’s talking about the glass figurines. They’re so fragile,” “Okay,” Mr. Eller nodded his head. “Any other ideas?” “I agree, but I also think that’s also a symbolism for love and relationships. They’re also beautiful and easily broken,” another girl replied.

Melted down their wedding rings because we couldn't afford to buy the fake ones they'd sold in the funerary homes. Pa stooped low, face near to the ground, and I almost wished him to be like Agatha's Da so that he could forget. If only to spare him the heartache. "There will come rains," Mr. Galanis repeated. "A line from a poem lost during the Great Deluge, written by a human poet. Before they'd lost it all. I do not recall the original author, but in my youth in the trenches, my friend had said it to me right before they'd released the phosgene. I think he'd probably meant to recite more of it, but I never heard the rest after the explanation. He'd died almost instantaneously. We'd been v

Something falls. I bend and pick it up. It is a photo of a young Quinn with a girl. They are both locked in a tight embrace kissing. Quinn with a smile that reaches his eyes. He looks very happy. I turn to look at the back. There is a quote, 'These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume'. Then it is signed, with love, Misha.

YOU WILL DIE. AND I'LL BE YOUR DEATH ." THE END

It laughed so hard that even some of the crying stopped — people freezing mid-sob, stunned by the sheer insanity of the sound. I could feel it vibrating through my chest, every note cutting through my ribs. When it finally stopped, it wiped an invisible tear from the corner of its eye and said, still chuckling, “Have you forgotten?” Its grin twisted. “You’re also dead.” The man’s mouth fell open. “W-what?” he whispered, barely audible. The Game Master leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Dead,” it repeated, dragging the word out like a lover’s whisper. “Every single one of you. Including you. You died. You’re not alive.”

If it doesn’t end now we’ll never leave. She shuddered. It was as though the poet had come to this very place, carved the rant upon the wall, and known that someday in the future she would come along in her brand new sneakers, and feed off the motivation. It nourished her when she needed it most. She had to do what she’d needed to do for so long. But doubt, like her cancers, spread fast. She thought of her dead husband. The living sons who no longer spoke to her. Of the poet. Yes. It was time.

She asks, lost in his eyes, lost in the soft sensation of his touch. "I'm scared of an ending Even a happy one. I never finish a sentence Cause I fear you will not be there to answer. I never end a thought Cause I fear you will not be in the next one. I never feared death Cuse I thought I am imortal. But you, my love Are poison for the Gods." He whispers the poem in her ear like the rest of the world is not supposed to hear the words, like the wind is not supposed to carry them anywhere else. They are just for her.

But when the final moon rises, Our souls will hunt together again. "I found the traditional street poetry in the old neighborhood archives before the war destroyed the library," I muttered, watching his eyes track the etched letters. "I didn't know many verses, but this was the only one that felt right for people who were taken before their time. I wanted them to have something permanent." Cassius didn't move. He stood over the root like an iron statue, his breathing the only sound on the entire hill.