Quotes by Authors - Page 3320

It's a great lesson about not being too precious about your writing. You have to try your hardest to be at the top of your game and improve every joke you can until the last possible second, and then you have to let it go. You can't be that kid standing at the top of the waterslide, overthinking it...You have to let people see what you wrote.

You are the gatekeeper to your life and your home. You get to decide who or what comes in and what needs to stay out. If it doesn't contribute to the peaceful home you are now trying to have, then it should stay out.

No!You cant get this close to me and then push me away.

A question asked in earnest, deserves an earnest answer.

The man raised his glass, 'To you!'Can't you think of a wittier t

(One character on another:)"Don't you know that I passionately dote on every chin on his face?

When you turn an election into a three-ring circus, there’s always a chance that the dancing bear will win.

Not to give up under any circumstances should be the motto of our life: we shall try again and again, and we are bound to succeed. There will be obstacles, but we have to defy them. So do not give up, do not give up! Continue, continue! The goal is ahead of you. If you do not give up, you are bound to reach your destined goal.

We have come to worship things, status, fame, popularity, money, security. Anything that comes between God and ourselves is idolatry. Jesus demands Lordship over all such things.

Apollo. I’m the fucking Lord of the Underworld. Do you honestly think I need to get my jollies by lying to others? I can think of so many better things to do.

It was still early, and the sun's lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet.

Ideas are universal, the names and titles we give them are not.

We live with this tortured feeling that we must create that which in reality we have the privilege of finding.

Daydream. Because you can't accomplish what you've never fully imagined.

What we talk about less often, because it is harder to explain, is the way a perfume can give breath and body to the phantom selves that waft about us as we go through our days -- not just the showgirl, the femme fatale, and the ingenue, but all the memories and dreams of the taller, meaner, sharper, sweeter, softer people we have been or long to be.

He bowed over her hand and kissed the knuckles. He'd never despised a glove more in his life.

Keep a spur handy.

I pray with my knees bow.

The silence encompassing the feeling so juvenile, veiling everything but a sham smile.

Once upon a time, there was a little creature that was rather small and rather wicked and it lived all alone in the woods. The little creature lived in a little den, at the bottom of a little ravine, filled with not-at-all little brambles and on the edge of a forest that could only be described as really freakin' huge.

Your potential in this world is timeless

God invented space so that not everything had to happen in Princeton.

Goodness without wisdom always accomplishes evil.

When your resources are focused on what has been you cannot create all that can still be.

Style jazzes up your canvas.

... People who are the spices of this world are the natural souls with instincts and impulses that have not been pruned by evolution and civilization.

Attracting loyal customers based on price is like believing in the tooth fairy.

He stood over her for a time, simply looking at her as he willed himself to climb into bed, and he knew doing so would make it utterly impossible to hate her. She looked so innocent and vulnerable as she dreamt, and it was difficult to hate someone once you had seen them sleeping.

The hungry and the haunted explode in a rock'n'roll band.

Nothing in life is yours to keep—not your children, not your friends and family, not your lover, not your material possessions, not your youth and vitality, not your struggles (which is great news) or successes, not your body and not even your life. Everything in life is given to you for a short period of time, to enjoy, to learn from, to appreciate and to love, but never to keep.

And I am weary of the anguishIncreasing winters bear;Weary to watch the spirit languishThrough years of dead despair.So, if a tear, when thou art dying,Should haply fall from me,It is but that my soul is sighing,To go and rest with thee.

Give much, demand little.

The TypeEveryone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else. -Richard SikenIf you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,you can let them look at you. But do not mistake eyes for hands.Or windows.Or mirrors.Let them see what a woman looks like.They may not have ever seen one before.If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,you can let them touch you.Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.Sometimes it is a bottle. A door. A sandwich. A Pulitzer. Another woman.But their hands found you first. Do not mistake yourself for a guardian.Or a muse. Or a promise. Or a victim. Or a snack.You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat.You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses.If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,you can let them hold you.All day they practice keeping their bodies upright--even after all this evolving, it still feels unnatural, still strains the muscles,holds firm the arms and spine. Only some men will want to learnwhat it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,admit they do not have the answersthey thought they would have by now;some men will want to hold you like The Answer.You are not The Answer.You are not the problem. You are not the poemor the punchline or the riddle or the joke.Woman. If you grow up the type men want to love,You can let them love you.Being loved is not the same thing as loving.When you fall in love, it is discovering the oceanafter years of puddle jumping. It is realizing you have hands.It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of womanmen will hurt. If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.It is hard to stop loving the ocean. Even after it has left you gasping, salty.Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still callmistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this:Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.Let the statues crumble.You have always been the place.You are a woman who can build it yourself.You were born to build.

She looked like autumn, when leaves turned and fruit ripened.

Xander could sense more than David's smile. He wished he could be more like that, easygoing. But then, David hadn't seen what Xander had seen.

I am strangely excited to see how snarky and sarcastic all us bookworms are going to become when we’re old. We’ll all be Mother Ogma’s with tattoos and piercings and purple WoW leggings carrying wands and staffs, and best of all everyone’s hair will finally be able to hold colour because we’ll all have white hair! We’ll all be blogging on WordPress and still waiting for Sherlock and still celebrating Christmas with Doctor Who specials while our grandchildren play quidditch…

Think of yourselves as pearls. We, sitting in our rows, eyes down, we make her salivate morally. We are hers to define, we must suffer her adjectives. I think about pearls. Pearls are congealed oyster spit.

Sometimes you don't even know what you want until you find out you can't have it.

Joblessness gives you access to a vast number of resources

Fall in love more often.Love the journey, not just the result-Camryn Manheim

The weight of the world is a trifle, if we all put our two fingers under it and try to lift together.

Why is it that people talk about death, as if it is a part of life, when it is entirely separate? Someone passes on into the never ending void, where the living aren't allowed. We can't see, hear, touch or feel those who have succumbed to the eternal sleep, but we comfort ourselves with thoughts of a grander plan. We tell ourselves that they are in a better place, but what could be greater than breathing the same air, as those loved ones? Their pain may be gone, but pleasure can only be when it is stark against the hurt that life brings?

Não é verdade que a felicidade é aquilo que procuramos sem nunca sermos capazes de a reconhecer?

At the end of our lives, when our bodies are about to be laid in Mother Earth, we will know for ourselves whether we are a Two-Legged being full of light or a Two-Legged being full of darkness.

Closeness eases the anxiety and depression of believing that no one really cares about you. It softens the frustration and anger that come with feeling that no one understands you. Suddenly, others become available to us. Suddenly, we feel better inside.

To desire is to dream.

Every individual ought to travel on his or her own destiny path.

Excuses are like butt holes everyone has 'em and they all stink.

Don't allow yourself to feel guilty about wanting deep and endless love, amazing sex and opportunities that will change your life. Expect these things - work for them and don't ever stop until they're yours.

Inside, my spirit is sparkling like foam on the crest of a wave at high tide under a full moon.

It's strange how in childhood it feels like tomorrow won't come until the end of forever, but in adulthood it feels like the end of forever could come tomorrow.

When we fail we are merely joining the great parade of humanity that has walked ahead of us and will follow after us.

I knew then that the fewer items I was acquiring, dusting, packing, moving, and lugging around in life would free up my energy and time to create...

A person who lives by the rules of the world cannot resist the devil, cannot fight him

We give up our power to the very people who took it away from us in the first place.

It was strictly forbidden to preach to other prisoners. It was understood that whoever was caught doing this received a severe beating. A number of us decided to pay the price for the privilege of preaching, so we accepted their [the communists' ] terms. It was a deal; we preached and they beat us. We were happy preaching. They were happy beating us, so everyone was happy.

What was it about my obsession with romance that always made me feel embarrassed? Like it was a silly, girlish thing to obsess about. In reality, it was what we all wanted, right?

Be aware of negativity but do not let it take root in the sinews of your creative spirit.

‎''I froze. Like an idiot I froze. He was staring right at me. (...) He wore an innocent and mesmerizing smile directed right at me. I did my best to ignore it but having a gorgeously naked man staring at me like I was the only girl in the world was impossible to brush off.

The moment Jace Calder saw his sister's face, he feared the worst. His heart sank. Emily, his troubled little sister, had been doing so well since she'd gotten the job at the Sarah Hamilton Foundation in Big Timber, Montana.t"What's wrong?" he asked as he removed his Stetson, pulled up a chair at the Big Timber Java coffee shop and sat down across from her. Tossing his hat on the seat of an adjacent chair, he braced himself for bad news.tEmily blinked her big blue eyes. Even though she was closing in on twenty-five, he often caught glimpses of the girl she'd been. Her pixie cut, once a dark brown like his own hair, was dyed black. From thirteen on, she'd been piercing anything she could. At sixteen she'd begun getting tattoos and drinking. It wasn't until she'd turned seventeen that she'd run away, taken up with a thirty-year-old biker drug-dealer thief and ended up in jail for the first time.tBut while Emily still had the tattoos and the piercings, she'd changed after the birth of her daughter, and after snagging this job with Bo Hamilton.t"What's wrong is Bo," his sister said. Bo had insisted her employees at the foundation call her by her first name. "Pretty cool for a boss, huh?" his sister had said at the time. He'd been surprised. That didn't sound like the woman he knew.tBut who knew what was in Bo's head lately. Four months ago her mother, Sarah, who everyone believed dead the past twenty-two years, had suddenly shown up out of nowhere. According to what he'd read in the papers, Sarah had no memory of the past twenty-two years.tHe'd been worried it would hurt the foundation named for her. Not to mention what a shock it must have been for Bo.tEmily leaned toward him and whispered, "Bo's… She's gone.