Bolewed Quotes & Sayings

Even the best things are not equal to their fame. — Henry David Thoreau

There is enough oil in the ground to deep-fry the lot of us, and no obvious means to prevail upon governments and industry to leave it in the ground. — George Monbiot

Marie's eyes slammed the furthest wall after a back-forth, back-forth swinging from horror to horror, from skull to skull, beating from rib to rib, staring with hypnotic fascination at paralyzed, loveless, fleshless loins, at men made into women by evaporation, of women made into dugged swine. the fearful ricochet of vision, growing, growing, taking impetus from swollen breast to raving mouth, wall to wall, again, again, like a ball hurled in a game, caught in the incredible teeth, spat in a scream across the corridor to be caught in the claws, lodged between thin teats, the whole standing chorus invisibly chanting the game on, on, the wild game of sight recoiling, rebounding, re-shuttling on down the inconceivable procession, through a montage of erected horrors that ended finally and for all time when vision crashed against the corridor ending with one last scream from all present. — Ray Bradbury

In that sense, this is not a standard book of interviews. Nor is it what you might call a book of 'celebrity conversations.' What I was searching for - with increasing clarity as the sessions progressed - was something akin to the heart's natural resonance. What I did my best to hear, of course, was that resonance coming from Ozawa's heart. After all, in our conversations I was the interviewer and he was the interviewee. But what I often heard at the same time was the resonance of my own heart. At times that resonance was something I recognized as having long been a part of me, and at other times it came as a complete surprise. In other words, through a kind of sympathetic vibration that occurred during all of these conversations, I may have been simultaneously discovering Seiji Ozawa and, bit by bit, Haruki Murakami. — Haruki Murakami

I went out for a film where they wanted seven brothers and one sister, so I was there for half a day while they were waiting for 'Archie' to read for a boy ... I've had drivers come to pick me up in England looking for a blond, blue-eyed Scottish boy. — Archie Panjabi

This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. — Naomi Shihab Nye

Program your life the way you want it to be: don't waste the unuse energy that lodges in the matrix of your soul. You are transcendent, be a superintendent. — Michael Bassey Johnson

On staring out at a gloomy day: First you must realize that it is the day that is gloomy, not you. If you want to be gloomy, too, that's all right, but it's not mandatory. — Nora Gallagher

The problem with relying on nostalgia for commentary is that people only remember the good things. — Richie Benaud

The desert became grim, dark and foreboding. A silence of death lay over the land, and it seemed as though the very stars held their breath and twinkled no more. — Alan Kinross

Farber says (in my recollection, anyway) the European (or classical) art, including film, is culturally assumed to be a monumental slab. It's about that slab, and how it's been shaped, or what's been carved on it. In "termite art" though, your slab has been wormholed countless times, and its meaning is really taking place in the resulting interstices. The actual art of the piece, in other words, and your enjoyment of it, is taking place in the cracks, and the shape of the slab is coincidental and ultimately meaningless. — William Gibson

I heard of a tradition," said Thorne, "where the guests are supposed to make a bunch of raucous noise outside of the bridal chambers on the wedding night, until you give us candy and send us away."
Scarlet glared at him. "Yeah, please don't do that. — Marissa Meyer

Blake." Her pleas are so sweet.

"Shhh, Anne just feel it. I have you." Her nipple is so fucking perfect under my mouth.

Her body tense, she's right on the edge. One more push and she'll explode in my hands. Arching her back more, she lets her legs relax open just a little. An unconscious signal... — Aden Lowe

By a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! — Jane Austen