Adeniji Johnson Quotes & Sayings

I hope, child, but I don't wish. There's a difference. She — Laini Taylor

Have I ever really loved anyone at all,
or was it a lightning flash
which made me the shadow of my former self? — Vladimir Holan

All pleasure is a vice, for seeking pleasure is what everybody does in life, and the only dark vice is doing what everybody does. — Fernando Pessoa

The night it falls
The stars shine through
The inky black
That is the cue
For plot demands
That dreams be sown
The fantasies
I have alone
The words come fast
They flow like wine
I am the midnight writer... — Virginia Alison

Whether they loved each other or not, they were lovers. And he was damned if he'd see her sucked into this brutal business. — Alan Furst

Color" is skin-deep and not soul-deep. Quit making it soul-deep. All souls are mine saith the Lord. As the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is His. What matters is that, the soul who sins is the one who will die (ref. Ez. 18:4) — Josephine Akhagbeme

I am tracing the knobs of your spine like the map of my favorite continent. You are all the places that I haven't visited yet and I mark each one off with my teeth. — Amanda Oaks

Where may he be at present?' Mrs. Sparsit asked in a light conversational manner, after mentally devoting the whelp to the Furies for being so uncommunicative. 'He — Charles Dickens

You keep running and one day when you stop running your going to fall, and I'm going to be there to catch you. — Gena Showalter

I don't think most people take honest well. They prefer the games. They want to believe the pretty lies. — Richelle Mead

At the time when talk of war, intimidation, and aggression is exchanged between politicians, the name of their country, Iran, is spoken here through her glorious culture, a rich and ancient culture that has been hidden under the heavy dust of politics. — Asghar Farhadi

Men can do nothing without the make-believe of a
beginning. Even science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start
with a make-believe unit, and must fix on a point in the stars'
unceasing journey when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time
is at Nought. His less accurate grandmother Poetry has always been
understood to start in the middle; but on reflection it appears
that her proceeding is not very different from his; since Science,
too, reckons backward as well as forward, divides his unit into
billions, and with his clock-finger at Nought really sets off
in medias res. No retrospect will take us to the true
beginning; and whether our prologue be in heaven or on earth, it is
but a fraction of that all-presupposing fact with which our story
sets out. — George Eliot