Boccanfuso Bridgeport Quotes & Sayings

Ah, the twins. I'll never forget the day they were born," and his smile dipped as he added, "no matter how hard I try ... — Derek Landy

Because you can never go from going out to being friends, just like that. It's a lie. It's just something that people say they'll do to take the permanence out of a breakup. And someone always takes it to mean more than it does, and then is hurt even more when, inevitably, said 'friendly' relationship is still a major step down from the previous relationship, and it's like breaking up all over again. But messier. — Sarah Dessen

Sycamore trees were held to be sacred in ancient Egypt and are the first trees represented in ancient art. The sycamore, also, was sacred. Peasants gather around them in rituals. In the Land of the Dead there was a sycamore in whose branches the goddess Hathor lived; she leaned out of it giving sustenance and water to deceased souls. In Memphis, Hathor's epithet was Lady of the Sycamore. — Larry Gates

If an artist tries consciously to do something to others, it is to stretch their eyes, their thoughts, to something they would not see or feel if the artist had not done it. To do this, he has to stretch his own first. — Henry Moore

One bulls-eye and you're rich and famous. The rich get more famous and the famous get rich. You're the talk of the town ... The sense of so much depending on success is very hard to ignore, perhaps impossible. It leads to disproportionate anxiety and disproportionate relief or disappointment. — Tom Stoppard

I felt better when I got there. I don't know what it is about a beach - the drifty, fake-coconut scent of suntan lotion, the endless whoosh of little waves lapping the shore, or the way the sun beats down so bright and hot, you feel too baked to think - but when I was there, I could almost forget everything. I floated in the cool water, too tired to actually swim, then flopped down on a towel and read. I read a lot. -Stella — Sara Pennypacker

Words present us with little pictures, clear and familiar, like those that are hung on the walls of schools to give children an example of what a workbench is, a bird, an anthill, things conceived of as similar to all others of the same sort. But names present a confused image of people
and of towns, which they accustom us to believe are individual, unique like people
an image which derives from them, from the brightness or darkness of their tone, the color with which it is painted uniformly, like one of those posters, entirely blue or entirely red, in which, because of the limitations of the process used or by a whim of the designer, not only the sky and the sea are blue or red, but the boats, the church, the people in the streets. — Marcel Proust