Anniekarni Quotes & Sayings

The future belongs to all who, refusing to look back at the past move ahead with the clock as it ticks. — Odo Simon Agbo

Remove your hands, brother!" Raistlin said in a flat, soft whisper.
"I'll see you in the Abyss!"
"I said remove your hands!" There was a flash of blue light, a crackle and sizzling sound, Caramon screamed in pain, loosening his hold as jarring, paralyzing shock surged through his body.
"I warned you," Raistlin straightened his robes and resumed his seat.
"By the gods, I will kill you this time!" Caramon said through clenched teeth, drawing his sword with trembling hand.
"Then do so," Raistlin snapped, looking up from the spellbook he had reopened, "and get it over with. This constant threatening becomes boring! — Margaret Weis

The German shook his head. "No. No more. I won't let you down; now stop crying. It makes me nauseous. — Mariana Zapata

Believe in love, Believe in yourself, and Believe we make our own destiny. — Dee King

Art was always my main focus; I fell into writing by accident in the 1980s, writing magazine articles to pay for my studio. I have to put myself into the position of writing; sometimes it doesn't work, and sometimes it works great. — Douglas Coupland

I played an unsympathetic part
myself. — Oscar Levant

My dear, old age is like an airplane flying in a storm. Once you're in it there's nothing you can do. You can't stop a plane, you can't stop a storm, you can't stop time. So you might as well take it easy, with wisdom. — Golda Meir

O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself - projecting me;
O solitary me, listening - nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you;
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night,
By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous'd - the fire, the sweet hell within,
The unknown want, the destiny of me. — Walt Whitman

Look at the four-spaced year
That imitates four seasons of our lives;
First Spring, that delicate season, bright with flowers,
Quickening, yet shy, and like a milk-fed child,
Its way unsteady while the countryman
Delights in promise of another year.
Green meadows wake to bloom, frail shoots and grasses,
And then Spring turns to Summer's hardiness,
The boy to manhood. There's no time of year
Of greater richness, warmth, and love of living,
New strength untried. And after Summer, Autumn,
First flushes gone, the temperate season here
Midway between quick youth and growing age,
And grey hair glinting when the head turns toward us,
Then senile Winter, bald or with white hair,
Terror in palsy as he walks alone. — Ovid

Whether a gastronomic tour of Italy, an elegant meal at the home of an Italian acquaintance, or "cooking Italian" back in one's own kitchen, the prospect is mouth-watering. — Claudia Piras

Before you echo 'Amen' in your home or place of worship, think and remember ... a child is listening. — Mary Griffith