Abdullah Ibn Abbas Quotes & Sayings

A popular character in old Italian plays, who imitated with ludicrous incompetence the "buffone", or clown, and was therefore the ape of an ape; for the clown himself imitated the serious characters of the play. — Ambrose Bierce

When you start to bore yourself and others, that's when you begin to get old. — Martha Albrand

thrift shops make you a king for five bucks. — Wendy Lustbader

No matter the self-conceited importance of our labors we are all compost for worlds we cannot yet imagine. — David Whyte

New Orleans is just a microcosm of Newark and Detroit and hundreds of other troubled urban locales. — Douglas Brinkley

I just try to be the best Catholic. — Jim Caviezel

I've gone to readings to see authors after meeting them on Twitter. And while there, I've found myself sitting next to still more writers who I met on Twitter, too. — John Searles

Everything we do is in service of our needs. When this one concept is applied to our view of others, we'll see that we have no real enemies, that what others do to us is the best possible thing they know to do to get their needs met. — Marshall B. Rosenberg

Gifts freely given conquer the night... — C.A. Morgan

Mr. Avery sat on the porch every — Harper Lee

There's no way back,
There is no track
That leads to his past lives.
He sets himself on forwards.
And he loves.
And he survives. — Kate Tempest

In Spanish, for whatever reason, I lean more toward the high notes. — Prince Royce

She stopped and listened to him and somehow his cheerful, friendly little whistle gave her a pleased feeling
even a disagreeable little girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor and big bare gardens had made this one feel as if there was no one left in the world but herself. If she had been an affectionate child, who had been used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though she was "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" she was desolate, and the bright-breasted little bird brought a look into her sour little face which was almost a smile. She listened to him until he flew away. He was not like an Indian bird and she liked him and wondered if she should ever see him again. Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew all about it. — Frances Hodgson Burnett

My first book, 'To Engineer Is Human,' was prompted by nonengineer friends asking me why so many technological accidents and failures were occurring. If engineers knew what they were doing, why did bridges and buildings fall down? It was a question that I had often asked myself, and I had no easy answer. — Henry Petroski