Alasehir Quotes & Sayings

One of the cool, chaste countries - Canada or Sweden. — John Updike

What happens at the beginning of any creative process? Nothing! Creativity requires that we create space and wait for something to emerge. — Otto Scharmer

Mmm." Sebastian moaned. "It's so delicious." He laughed then. "It's not the Poisonous Desert; it's the Oreo Desert." He scooped up handfuls of dirt and stones and funneled it into his mouth. He licked his palms, his teeth grinding against rock.
"Did the plant scramble his brains?" Firen asked, her lips twitching just a smidgen.
"The plant's poison makes you delusional," Gabriella informed as Egnatious and Firen yanked Sebastian to his feet. "He'll probably be a bit Looneyville for a while. — Laura Kreitzer

Her arms were pressed against his chest, and he wished she would put her head against him, so much his chest ached. — Melanie Dickerson

Both Heaven and Hell are retroactive, all of one's life will eventually be known to have been one or the other. — Sheldon Vanauken

Something else is bothering you. Tell me what it is and I'll fix it." "You can't." "Try me. — Lisa Kleypas

New ideas are reasonable if they can be fitted into an already familiar scheme, unreasonable if they cannot be made to fit. Our intellectual prejudices determine the channels along which our reason shall flow. — Aldous Huxley

How could I not love my own brother? I just can't stand to be with him. — Dave Davies

I know now that people only seem to live when they care only for themselves, and that it is by love for others that they really live. He who has Love has God in him, and is in God - - because God is Love. — Leo Tolstoy

Stars flicker above, points of bright ice in a dark river. I pull a heavy sheepskin around my legs and stretch my feet toward the fire. Despite the cold, Liam plays his flute, the sound whistling through the night. Soon my eyes are heavy, my head nodding.I open my eyes at the deep melodious baritone of Salvius's voice telling a tale. Liam's flute is silent now. I have heard Salvius tell many tales on market days; he is known for his memory of wandering minstrels and mummers who visit us at Whitsunday and through Midsummer. Salvius is a mockingbird: he can give a fair charade of the rhythmic tones of any wandering bard or any noble of the Royal Court.In this darkness, his eyes catch the light like a cat in the night. — Ned Hayes