A Handkerchief Head Quotes & Sayings

That is the problem with repressed memory and dissociative identity disorder. Your mind represses certain traumas for reasons of pure survival. And then you learn that to survive as an adult, you must uncover the memories, find the parts, and relieve the traumas. The contradiction is almost too much for the mind to comprehend and for the heart and soul to endure. — Suzie Burke

What is important in life is life, and not the result of life. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

What's wrong with wanting to live...? We may be different but we were still given life. Given a chance. If we can only eat humans, then that's what we'll do. How else are we supposed to live with these bodies of ours?! — Sui Ishida

The Christian market has less competition and lower standards. — Jerry B. Jenkins

Christians want to whine to everyone under the sun about their problems, instead of actually going to the only one who not only cares, but can actually do something about their problems. Next time you are sick, broken hearted or having problems, before you call your friends, post it on Facebook, or tell your pet fish, try going to God with it, and see how much better that works for you. — Steve C. Roberts

I can remember every second of that morning, if I shut my eyes I can see the deep blue colour of the sky and the mango leaves, the pink and red hibiscus, the yellow handkerchief she wore around her head, tied in the Martinique fashion with the sharp points in front, but now I see everything still, fixed for ever like the colours in a stained-glass window. Only the clouds move. It was wrapped in a leaf, what she had given me, and I felt it cool and smooth against my skin. — Jean Rhys

It's easy to win forgiveness for being wrong; being right is what gets you into real trouble. — Bjarne Stroustrup

One, which I mention several times elsewhere, is the need for patience if big profits are to be made from investment. Put another way, it is often easier to tell what will happen to the price of a stock than how much time will elapse before it happens. The other is the inherently deceptive nature of the stock market. Doing what everybody else is doing at the moment, and therefore what you have an almost irresistible urge to do, is often the wrong thing to do at all. — Philip Arthur Fisher

She knew the minute HE arrived. Felt the warm blanket of comfort reach out to her frozen soul ... He made his way down the isle and sat next to her ... he didn't reach out, didn't touch her ... a single tear slid out from her closed lids and she blindly reached for his hand. He took her hand in more, gathering her close, arms coming around her warm and strong as her head sank down unto his shoulder and the tears finally came soaking the lapel of his wool suit. He offered her a perfectly white handkerchief ... she stared at it and wondered who carries that type of thing anymore? He looked back at her and explained, I'm old fashioned. — D.B. Reynolds

Never borrow sorrow from tomorrow. — Helen Steiner Rice

Well, things can't get much worse
that's one consolation, the Muskrat groaned. He had hidden himself in a forest of bracken in the bathroom, and had wrapped his head in a handkerchief so that nothing should grow into his ears. — Tove Jansson

And so you prefer her faults to other people's perfections? — Anne Bronte

And Mister . . . ?"
"Firas," Kashmir said, folding his handkerchief neatly and making a crisp bow.
Blake's brow furrowed as he took in the fine clothes. "A sailor?"
"Her tutor," Kashmir said smoothly.
Blake cocked his head. "You're much younger than any of my tutors."
"Baleh, I am wise beyond my years," Kashmir said. "And of course I have a natural inclination to it. My people did, after all, invent algebra. Including the zero. — Heidi Heilig

Prayer. Praying in Jesus' name is automatically a confession of our unworthiness and a proclamation of his worthiness. — Bryan Chapell

I watched the way our fingers intertwined, and I thought, What are hands made for but this? For holding. For holding on. — James Patterson

Linebacker is a lot more detail oriented and you have to know a lot more than a defensive end necessarily would on any given play. — Justin Cole

P.S.2. I have put in a new pen. And I love you because you aren't pompous like Dr. Carter ... and I love you because you haven't got sticky-out ears like Johnny. And ... the very best reason of all ... I love you for just being Gilbert! — L.M. Montgomery

Tartuffe: For heaven's sake! Before you speak, I pray you take this handkerchief.
Dorine: Whatever do you mean?
Tartuffe: Cove your bosom. I can't bear to see it. Such pernicious sights give rise to sinful thoughts.
Dorine: You're mighty susceptible to temptation then! The flesh must make a great impression on you! I really don't know why you should get so excited. I can't say that I'm so easily roused. I could see you naked from head to foot and your whole carcass wouldn't tempt me in the least. — Moliere

Her [Caddy] father released her, took out his pocket handkerchief, and sat down on the stairs with his head against the wall. I hope he found some consolation in walls. I almost think he did. — Charles Dickens

The report was so loud Nicholas thought the guard had fired into his head. He staggered as the man's grip fell away, his hand going to his cheek. He felt the warm wetness of blood, but it wasn't his. He looked for the Gardier and saw him sprawled on the ground, one neat bullet hole in his forehead. He straightened up, reaching for a handkerchief until he remembered the damn uniform jacket had no pockets. Wiping the blood away with his hand, he said under his breath, "I knew emphasizing firearms training over deportment lessons would benefit in the long run."
His daughter moved toward him, lowering the pistol, staring. — Martha Wells

She read it again. It was fascinating and surreal, like reading a diary that had been hers when she was a teenager, secret and heartfelt words written by a girl she only vaguely remembered. She wished she'd written more. Her words mad her feel sad and proud, powerful and relieved. — Lisa Genova

Today's Uncle Tom doesn't wear a handkerchief on his head. This modern, twentieth-century Uncle Thomas now often wears a top hat. He's usually well-dressed and well-educated. He's often the personification of culture and refinement. The twentieth-century Uncle Thomas sometimes speaks with a Yale or Harvard accent. Sometimes he is known as Professor, Doctor, Judge, and Reverend, even Right Reverend Doctor. This twentieth-century Uncle Thomas is a professional Negro -by that I mean his profession is being a Negro for the white man. — Malcolm X

And for some reason he had an unfolded white handkerchief draped over his head, possibly to ward off rain, or hail, or brimstone. — J.D. Salinger

People assume a captive to be in their power. Often the best way to escape is by fighting back." "What?" Marasi said, finally taking the handkerchief. "You discharged a pistol right beside your head," Wax said. "You are going to have trouble hearing. Rusts ... you've probably done some permanent damage to your ear. Hopefully it won't be too bad." "What? — Brandon Sanderson

In high school, I could get beaten up all the time, or I could be something better. I became the court jester. — Richard Simmons

For the first part of the journey Maia kept her eyes on the side of the road. Now that she was really leaving her friends it was hard to hold back her tears.
She had reached the gulping stage when she heard a loud snapping noise and turned her head. Miss Minton had opened the metal clasp of her large black handbag and was handing her a clean handkerchief, embroidered with the initial A.
"Myself," said the governess in her deep gruff voice, "I would think how lucky I was. How fortunate."
"To go to the Amazon, you mean?"
"To have so many friends who were sad to see me go."
"Didn't you have friends who minded you leaving?"
Miss Minton's thin lips twitched for a moment.
"My sister's canary, perhaps. If he had understood what was happening. Which is extremely doubtful. — Eva Ibbotson

The cabbage white flies through the tailor's cheek. The tailor sinks his head. The cabbage white flies out of the back of the tailor's head, white and uncrumpled. Skinny Wilma flaps her handkerchief. The cabbage white flies through her forehead and into her head. — Herta Muller