Bolognini Obituaries Quotes & Sayings

Dean coughed helpfully. Somewhere in the cough was the word "persuasion." He was throwing Mo a lifeline.
Mo preferred to go down. "I haven't actually read any Austen. I'm more into mysteries, crime fiction, courtroom stuff." This was disappointing, but not damning. On the other hand it was a failing; on the other, manfully owned up to. If only Mo had stopped there.
"I don't read much women's stuff. I like a good plot," he said.
Prudie finished her drink and set her glass down so hard you could hear it hit. "Austen can plot like a son of a bitch," she said. "Bernadette, I believe you were telling us about your first husband."
"I could start with my second. Or the one after that," Bernadette offered. Down with plot! Down with Mo! — Karen Joy Fowler

If we can't break the rule, we just gotta cheat the rule — Ika Natassa

In the Soyuz, the little Russian capsule, you can actually hear the banging of the big shield, the big heat shield on the bottom, as it slowly erodes away from the heat and pieces of it fly off like sparks across your window, and it's an interesting thing to ride through, you know. — Chris Hadfield

There are times when looking on the bright side takes a lot ot work. I'm taking a break from it tonight. I'll be back at it tomorrow. — C.C. Alma

The nude, if you tackle it, is a very fascinating subject, especially for a woman. — Isabel Bishop

For the sake of your name, LORD, forgive my iniquity, though it is great. 12 Who, then, are those who fear the Lord? He will — Timothy Keller

Before the dawn I leave the night behind me
and before my heart I let you leave me behind.
- from the poem 'Behind — Munia Khan

The point was - he wasn't acting. It was as if he'd forgotten how! Jack still knew his lines, but he was out of character ... Jack had stopped acting. He was just Jack Burns - the real Jack Burns at last. — John Irving

When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves. — Chuck Palahniuk

What finally helped was an image from a medieval monk, Brother Lawrence, who saw all of us as trees in winter, with little to give, stripped of leaves and color and growth, whom God loves unconditionally anyway. My priest friend Margaret, who works with the aged and who shared this image with me, wanted me to see that even though these old people are no longer useful in any traditional meaning of the word, they are there to be loved unconditionally, like trees in the winter. When — Anne Lamott

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone. Only I wasn't alone. In fact, I knew I would never be alone again. — James Redfield