171b Edgedale Quotes & Sayings

Pain is just another form of information. — Don DeLillo

The struggle to leave the cocoon is what strengthens the butterfly's wings so she can fly. I am about to become something beautiful. — Tricia Stirling

She does know we're coming, right?' I ask.
'Well ... ' He hems and haws a bit. 'Not exactly.'
Laney immediately smacks the back of his head. 'Jake! You mean we're showing up unannounced? That is so rude!'
'What if she isn't there? What are we going to do?' I smack him once, too, for good measure. 'What is *wrong* with you?'
'Can we please stop with the abuse? — Hannah Harrington

The greatest success is creating whatever you want without conditions. I don't do commissions unless I really want to, because it's like having a job. — Richard MacDonald

The choices we make, make us. We — Charles Allen Kollar

Nothing is until it is and until then everything is possible. — Nicola Morgan

Deliberately seeking solitude-quality time spent away from family and friends-may seem selfish. It is not. Solitude is as necessary for our creative spirits to develop and flourish as are sleep and food for our bodies to survive. — Sarah Ban Breathnach

No truth, no equality. No equality, no justice. No justice, no peace. No peace, no love. No love, only darkness. — Suzy Kassem

The form of truth will bear exposure, as well as that of beauty herself. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I love knowing that I am part of your happiness. — Auliq Ice

Every great artist raises art to a science, and every great scientist raises science to an art, hence we have Michelangelo's David and Einstein's Theory of Relativity. — Robert Breault

If you want to have a strong structure, build the foundations the right way. — Eraldo Banovac

And in the night you realize, when you wake out of a dream, overcome and captivated by the enchantment of visions that crowd in on each other, just how fragile a handhold, how tenuous a boundary separates us from darkness - we are little flames, inadequately sheltered by thin walls from the tempest of dissolution and insensibility in which we flicker and are often all but extinguished. Then the muted sounds of battle surrounds us, and we creep into ourselves and stare wide-eyed into the night. — Erich Maria Remarque