Bitipatibi Quotes & Sayings

If your name isn't known, then it's a very lonely feeling. — Madeleine L'Engle

And you and I had better go work on the land. I want to scrape the earth with my hands. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Technology is a nerdy field. That's why I called myself a 'geek.' It requires a lot of training and encouragement at a very young age. — Weili Dai

She was so far out of my league that we were practically on different continents. And yet I'd never longed for anything as much as I longed for her. I wanted to be good enough for her; I wanted her to want me. — Kirsty Moseley

I've said many, many, many unkind things about Philadelphia, and I meant every one. — David Lynch

I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in. — George Washington Carver

My older brother was the guitar player in the neighborhood band. My parents were the cool ones that had the basement for rehearsal. Rather than hang with my peers after school, I wanted to just listen to the band. More than that, I wanted to play. — Jill Sobule

Knowing Lissa missed me hurt almost more than if she'd completely written me off. I'd never wanted to hurt her. Even when I'd resented her for feeling like she was controlling my life, I'd never hated her. I loved her like a sister and couldn't stand the thought of her suffering now on my behalf. How had things gotten so screwed up between us? — Richelle Mead

Failure is essential. Trial and error is necessary. — David Bergen

It is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it. — Joseph Joubert

The dreams and passions stored within hearts are powerful keys which can unlock a wealth of potential. — John C. Maxwell

This whole world is functioning on the foundation of [karmic] 'effect'. God has no hand in this. People did not understand this and that is why they put this on God's head (blamed God). — Dada Bhagwan

In a sense, Joyce was Beckett's Don Quixote, and Beckett was his Sancho Panza. Joyce aspired to the One; Beckett encapsulated the fragmented many. But as each author accomplished his task, it was in the service of the other. Ultimately, Beckett's landscapes would resound with articulate silence, and his empty spaces would collect within themselves the richness of multiple shadows
a physicist would say the negative particles
of all that exists in absence, as in the white patches of an Abstract Expressionist painting. Becket would evoke, on his canvasses of vast innuendo and through the interstices of conscious and unconscious thought, the richness that Joyce had made explicit in words and intricate structure. — Lois Gordon