Blood Bread And Poetry Quotes & Sayings

One thing about cold weather: it brings out the statistician in everyone. — Paul Theroux

website optimization, which is the art and science of enhancing the user experience of a website with the goal of converting users into customers. To see why this is important, you need to become — Richard Stokes

My veins do not end in me but in the unanimous blood of those who struggle for life, love, things, landscape and bread, the poetry of all. — Roque Dalton

Formats are just illusions, and it's about the relationship between the person that makes music and the person that listens to music. Every time there's a new format, the iron is hot, and you can mold it. — Bjork

The fantastic breaks the crust of appearance ... something grabs us by the shoulders to throw us outside ourselves. I have always known that the big surprises await us where we have learned to be surprised by nothing, that is, where we are not shocked by ruptures in the order. — Julio Cortazar

Everyone had run to do her bidding. Soon only the three men
the three useless ones
had been left in the sitting room to fight terror and nausea and fits of the vapors.
The door opened. Three pale, terrified faces turned toward it.
-the three manly men waiting during a childbirth — Mary Balogh

Creativity is mistakes. — Grayson Perry

When speculation has done its worst, two and two still make four. — Samuel Johnson

My father was second-generation Chinese-American, born in 1923 in California. My mother emigrated to the States from China when she was in her early twenties, in part to escape the political turmoil in China. — Tess Gerritsen

Sometimes I feel so sick at the state of the world I can't even finish my second apple pie. — Banksy

I'll never be good enough for you, I know that. But I'm no good without you, and if that makes me a selfish bastard for wanting you as badly as I do then so be it because I can't live a life that doesn't have you in it. — Samantha Towle

She tapped out a beat on the edge of the piano as I tripped and plummeted through the refrain of "Spacebar," trying to translate the synth chords into a piano bit on the fly. It had been a million years since I'd played it.
But it was still catchy.
Whoever had written this song had known what they were doing. — Maggie Stiefvater

At first, sending the confession by real mail had felt like a genius device. I would not have to sit by my phone and watch for the signs that indicated it had been sent and seen. Slim but solid paper would, I hoped, convey me better. Now I had to consider the very real frailties of the system. Ludicrous, in fact, to entrust something of such magnitude to a mailman. A perfect stranger. I looked up stories of nefarious New York mailmen. There was one who has willfully upturned the lives of ordinary people like myself by hoarding 40,000 pieces of undelivered mail. The city was crawling with thieves and malcontents. — Olivia Sudjic