After Song Bodega Quotes & Sayings

For years I thought my work still lay ahead, and now I find it is behind me: there was no moment when it took place. — Simone De Beauvoir

This lost country composers do not actually remember, but each of them remains all his life somehow attuned to it; he is wild with joy when he is singing the airs of his native land, betrays it at times in his thirst for fame, but then, in seeking fame, turns his back upon it, and it is only when he despises it that he finds it when he utters, whatever the subject with which he is dealing, that peculiar strain the monotony of which - for whatever its subject it remains identical in itself - proves the permanence of the elements that compose his soul. — Marcel Proust

In the scale of life there is a gradual decline in physical variability, as the organism has gathered into itself resources for meeting the exigencies of changing external conditions; and that while in the mindless and motionless plant these resources are at a minimum, their maximum is reached in the mind of man, which, at length, rises to a level with the total order and powers of nature, and in its scientific comprehension of nature is a summary, an epitome of the world. — Chauncey Wright

The novelist has permission to do whatever she chooses to supercharge whatever's interesting in her story. This is also known as freedom. — Darin Strauss

I think one of my highpoints was definitely well, everything started turning around on Barry Manilow week. I had so much fun on disco week, love disco music. I think I picked some songs that really worked for me and people really enjoyed them. I loved doing the Donna Summers song and she was the guest judge, and she was the guest judge and I felt honored. She said she loved the song and said I made it my own. — Diana DeGarmo

For money buys all virtues. Money suffereth long and is kid, is not puffed up, doth not behave unseemly, seeketh not her own — George Orwell

The louder our world today is, the deeper God seems to remain in silence. Silence is the language of eternity; noise passes. — Gertrud Von Le Fort