Anti Ice Bucket Quotes & Sayings

(Poem on anorexic): The only way to escape the history of styles is not to have a body. — Frank Bidart

Ave atque vale ... Hail and farewell. He had never given much thought to the words before, he had never thought about why they were not just a farewell but also a greeting. Every meeting led to a parting, and so it would, as long as it was mortal. In every meeting there was some of the sorrow of parting, but in every parting there was some joy of the meeting as well.
He would not forget the joy. — Cassandra Clare

He believed in courage combined with intelligence, and that was what he called strength. Courage has
been turned in his name against intelligence, and the virtues that were really his have thus been
transformed into their opposite: blind violence. He confused freedom and solitude, as do all proud spirits.
His "profound solitude at midday and at midnight" was nevertheless lost in the mechanized hordes that
finally inundated Europe. — Albert Camus

We also have a responsibility not to let ourselves be judged. We do not have to accept others' evaluations of our worth, nor are we obligated to believe in their superiority. Whichever role we are assigned, we can stop the game by refusing to play our expected part. When someone suggests that our recent behavior has undone our right to exist, a useful question to ask is, "What do you want? What can I do to make the situation better?" This often reduces the Judge's voice to silence, because what the Judge really wants- but cannot admit- is to make you feel bad, not to get the floor clean. When we feel secure in our inherent value, we do not have to argue about our worth as human beings. Instead, we can attempt to solve the problem. — Starhawk

I was sailing from tedium to apathy with a side trip to torpor. — Peggy Noonan

My father sang well, and he was a handsome man. When he walked down the street, people sometimes mistook him for Cary Grant and asked for his autograph. — Alan Alda

In Eudora Welty's masterful story "Why I Live at the P.O." (1941), the narrator is engaged in a sibling rivalry with her younger sister, who has come home after leaving under suspicious if not actually disgraceful circumstances. The narrator, Sister, is outraged at having to cook two chickens to feed five people and a small child just because her "spoiled" sister has come home. What Sister can't see, but we can, is that those two fowl are really a fatted calf. It may not be a grand feast by traditional standards, but it is a feast, as called for upon the return of the Prodigal Son, even if the son turns out to be a daughter. Like the brothers in the parable, Sister is irritated and envious that the child who left, and ostensibly used up her "share" of familial goodwill, is instantly welcomed, her sins so quickly forgiven. Then — Thomas C. Foster

Her old thoughts were going to come in handy now, but new words would have to be made and said to fit them. — Zora Neale Hurston

Then Morgoth stretching out his long arm towards Dor-lomin cursed Hurin and Morwen and their offspring, saying: 'Behold! The shadow of my thought shall lie upon them wherever they go, and my hate shall pursue them to the ends of the world. — J.R.R. Tolkien

I have no illusions that my work can rouse the masses to create change, because literature simply doesn't have that power anymore in my country, if it does anywhere. But I do hope that it can be read by those who are in positions to create change, or that it can at least be part of that dialogue. — Miguel Syjuco

The imagination is not a state: it is the human existence itself. — William Blake

You're the prince whose kiss awakened me after a hundred years. The wait was nothing. — Annabel Joseph

How is it so far?" asked Cloud. "How is what so far?" "This," Cloud said, and motioned around him. "Life. The universe. Everything. — John Scalzi

Babies are such fascinating creatures," said Anne dreamily. "They are what I heard somebody at Redmond call 'terrific bundles of potentialities.' Think of it, Katherine ... Homer must have been a baby once ... a baby with dimples and great eyes full of light ... he couldn't have been blind then, of course. — L.M. Montgomery

I, however, was raised neither as Catholic nor as Jew. I was both, and nothing: a jewholic-anonymous, a cathjew nut, a stewpot, a mongrel cur. I was
what's the word these days?
atomised. Yessir: a real Bombay mix. — Salman Rushdie