Bierlein Quotes & Sayings

Towards the end, one of them was older than I was in real life. — Max Irons

On singing in the swimming pool: If I can move the water, I can move the people. — Michael Bolton

So unfair, she thought. Her baby was going to grow up, and her husband wasn't. — Stacy Bierlein

As the eye of narrative drew back from the coffin on its stand, two things happened. One happened comparatively slowly, and this was Vargo's realisation that he never recalled the coffin having a pillow before.
The other was Greebo deciding that he was as mad as hell and wasn't going to take it any more. — Terry Pratchett

Being a woman, in this world, ultimately makes you crazy. — Holly Bourne

I don't really need new stuff anyway. I like to make big stuff, and it's too expensive to travel with. So I have my refined set that works well, and I'm pretty much set with that. — Z'EV

I really can't blame anyone but myself, because I didn't have to deliver the album. But when you get caught up in the gas, and you're young, and there's so much helium going on around you, you can't decipher the real end. — Pras Michel

Cooking (from scratch) is the single most important thing we could do as a family to improve our health and general well-being. — Michael Pollan

Her family was a relay team racing toward Tomorrowland, but her father died, and in their shock they kept losing the baton. — Stacy Bierlein

Lowell's best friend was the heroically moustached art director of a tobacco magazine that published in the same building where Lowell worked at plumbing. His name was Harry Balmer, and despite the evidence of his moustache he was nervous, compulsive, and wracked with small fears. He looked his best from across a wide room; the closer you got to him, the more he seemed to fall apart into a mass of twitches and gnawed finernails and the clearer it became that this big, smart-looking moustache was a kind of bush he was trying to hide behind. — L.J. Davis

Often far away there I thought of these two, guarding the door of Darkness, knitting black wool as for a warm pall, one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown, the other scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. Ave! Old knitter of black wool. Morituri te salutant. Not many of those she looked at ever saw her again
not half, by a long way. — Joseph Conrad