Boles Quotes & Sayings

I will not live to see you grow to womanhood, so I have written my story for you, my beloved grandchild, so that you can know the truth of what happened here so many years ago. I'm sure that in the course of your life you have wonderd about whispered conversations that stop when you are near. Wondered too about the knowing looks cast at you and your family. I am equally sure that your father has never found it in his heart to tell you the truth you are about to read. I beg you not to be angry with hime for withholding the truth from you. He has suffered greatly for my sins. — Susan Boles

I'm not over you. I dream about you every night. I watch that fucking video over and over just to hear your voice. Does that make you happy? Is that proof I cared? — Leah Raeder

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Motivation begins with discomfort- with needs that are unfulfilled. — Susan Maushart

Teaching is a dialogue, and it is through the process of engaging students that we see ideas taken from the abstract and played out in concrete visual form. Students teach us about creativity through their personal responses to the limits we set, thus proving that reason and intuition are not antithetical. Their works give aesthetic visibility to mathematical ideas. — Martha Boles

In life, we choose whether or not we want to be a winner or a loser. To be a winner, we must devote time and hard work. To be a loser you do nothing, and that's exactly what you will get, nothing. — John Patrick Boles

Unless you stop trying, how can you not fail anymore? — PewDiePie

The price of apparently cheap food is costing nothing less than the Earth. — Prince Charles

The Nick Boles text is kiboshed [Mike] Gove's chances. It undermined people's confidence in him. It made it look as if he's been conspiring all along. It did more damage to his reputation than anything else. — Andrea Leadsom

This world is of a single piece; yet, we invent nets to trap it for our inspection. Then we mistake our nets for the reality of the piece. In these nets we catch the fishes of the intellect but the sea of wholeness forever eludes our grasp. So, we forget our original intent and then mistake the nets for the sea.

Three of these nets we have named Nature, Mathematics, and Art. We conclude they are different because we call them by different names. Thus, they are apt to remain forever separated with nothing bonding them together. It is not the nets that are at fault but rather our misunderstanding of their function as nets. They do catch the fishes but never the sea, and it is the sea that we ultimately desire. — Martha Boles

What is the task of higher education? To make a man into a machine. What are the means employed? He is taught how to suffer being bored. — Friedrich Nietzsche

These relatives of hers, the Boles and the Jetters and the Pooles, used to be around the house a lot, or else Lea wanted to be at one of their houses. It was a clan that didn't always enjoy one another's company but who made sure they got plenty of it. — Alice Munro

Nine-tenths of all artistic creation derives its basic energy from the engine of repression and sublimation, and well beyond the strict Freudian definition of those terms.
John Fowles attended new College in Oxford. You might like to see my collection of Oxford trees at Rob's Bookshop. — John Fowles

Care2, you can click on a variety of causes; then advertisers and other sponsors will make a charitable contribution on your behalf (usually ranging from a few pennies to 25 cents). — Nicole Boles

I don't throw people under the bus. When I stick by a guy - I may not agree with him all the time, but I sure don't throw him under the bus. — Joe Arpaio

The true conservative is not at home in social struggle. He will attempt to avoid unbridgeable schism, because he knows that a stable social structure thrives not on triumphs but on reconciliations. — Henry A. Kissinger

You always had the power, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself. Glinda the Good Witch — Susan Boles

People break, I guess. Everyone. — Patrick Ness

True joy blossoms in the garden of inner peace. — Milan Ljubincic

For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping. — Virginia Woolf

As falsehood peels like paint, eternal truth is uncovered. — T.F. Hodge

At certain moments, words are nothing; it is the
tone in which they are uttered. — Paul Bourget

triumphantly digitized contemporaneity'? — John Green

I don't think fireflies have friends. They seem to be singular bugs. They travel in packs, I guess, because when you see one, usually you'll see others. but they're never flocking together, like gnats or hornets. They're individuals. They're independent. Maybe that's why I like them. They're okay by themselves. That and their butts glow green. And that's just cool. — A.C. Williams

The day waned, and dusk was twined about the boles of the trees. At last the hobbits saw, rising dimly before them, a steep dark land: they had come to the feet of the mountains, and to the green roots of tall Methedras. Down the hillside the young Entwash, leaping from its springs high above, ran noisily from step to step to meet them. On the right of the stream there was a long slope, clad with grass, now grey in the twilight. No trees grew there and it was open to the sky; stars were shining already in lakes between shores of cloud. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Along the Oregon coast an arm of the Pacific shushes softly against rocky shores. Above the waves, dripping silver in the moonlight, old trees, giant trees, few now, thrust their heads among low clouds, the moss thick upon their boles and shadow deep around their roots. In these woods nights are quiet, save for the questing hoot of an owl, the satin stroke of fur against a twig, the tick and rasp of small claws climbing up, clambering down. In these woods, bear is the big boy, the top of the chain, but even he goes quietly and mostly by day. It is a place of mosses and liverworts and ferns, of filmy green that curtains the branches and cushions the soil, a wet place, a still place. — Sheri S. Tepper

Since barbarism has its pleasures it naturally has its apologists. — George Santayana