Biamonte Natalya Quotes & Sayings

This is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he is not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark. — Barbara Kingsolver

She was his strength and his heart and his soul, and she made him believe in the whole cannoli. — Iona Findley

If the Aeneid is language as metaphor, as the sacramental ritualizing of human experience, Cicero's speeches are language as practical tool. — Thomas Cahill

Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,
His first best country ever is at home. — Oliver Goldsmith

The best men are not those who have waited for chances but who have taken them; besieged the chance; conquered the chance; and made chance the servitor. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin

I am someone to fear, not hunt. — Pittacus Lore

Few people realize how badly they write. Nobody has shown them how much excess or murkiness has crept into their style. — William Zinsser

If you want to keep people happy, just keep the food and entertainment rolling. — E.A. Bucchianeri

Increasingly, we will be faced with a choice: whether to keep the oceans for wild fish or farmed fish. Farming domesticated species in close proximity with wild fish will mean that domesticated fish always win. Nobody in the world of policy appears to be asking what is best for society, wild fish or farmed fish. And what sort of farmed fish, anyway? Were this question to be asked, and answered honestly, we might find that our interests lay in prioritizing wild fish and making their ecosystems more productive by leaving them alone enough of the time. — Charles Clover

Every dog has its day. Some even bite. — Jordan Phillips

She could become a child again, run and frolic, leave her hat on Valjean's knees and fill it with bunches of wild flowers. She could watch the butterflies, although she never tried to catch them; tenderness and compassion are a part of loving, and a girl cherishing something equally fragile in her heart is mindful of the wings of butterflies. — Victor Hugo