Armsworthy Quotes & Sayings

Even before ObamaCare, the government took care of the bottom 5 or 10 percent of the public who were on Medicaid. — Rand Paul

His arm pulled her a little off balance, and paradoxically it steadied her at the same time. That was what Charles did to her heart, too. He knocked it off balance into what felt like the right position, a safe place that was still exciting, exhilarating, and terrifying. — Patricia Briggs

I adore dogs to the extent I think they are much more important than human beings. I like your dog much more than I like you. — David Feherty

- sit down and take dinner with us - a guest that is safe from repeating his visit, can generally be made welcome ... — Emily Bronte

If you are not generous when it's difficult, you will not be generous when it's easy. Generosity is a function of the heart, not the wallet. — Wayne Dyer

When it comes to you, against my better judgment and my will, I find myself promising things I never thought I could promise anyone. — Lilly Black

Dream of me, Maddy. See me as I want to be; not the nightmare who torments you, but the devoted and mystified man who worships at your feet. — M.S. Willis

If he lived through this night, he'd look back on this moment and recall seeing the universe in all its majesty and recognizing he was only a powerless man staring into the vastness of an all-powerful God. — Cindy Woodsmall

My mind is, to use a disgustingly obvious simile, like a wastebasket full of waste paper; bits of hair, and rotting apple cores. I am feeling depressed from being exposed to so many lives, so many of them exciting, new to my realm of experience. I pass by people, grazing them on the edges, and it bothers me. I've got to admire someone to really like them deeply - to value them as friends. It was that way with Ann: I admired her wit, her riding, her vivacious imagination - all the things that made her the way she was. I could lean on her as she leaned on me. Together the two of us could face anything - only not quite anything, or she would be back. And so she is gone, and I am bereft for awhile. But what do I know of sorrow? — Sylvia Plath