Bousfield Hall Quotes & Sayings

'Where'd You Go, Bernadette' is an epistolary novel - one told in letters. I had no idea how much fun it would be, puzzling together the plot with letters and documents. — Maria Semple

Do you really think that if Jesus came back, he'd be hanging out with Ted fuckinging Cruz? Ted Cruz's wife doesn't hang out with Ted Cruz. Ted Cruz is a skin-walker and a demon from the nether region. — Trae Crowder

The picture placed the busts between Adds to the thought much strength; Wisdom and Wit are little seen, But Folly 's at full length. — Jane Brereton

I'm born and raised in Houston, Texas, but Wisconsin is always going to be a home for me, and I'll always be back. — Donald Driver

Syntax must be bad, having sin and tax in it. — Will Rogers

The laws would not prevent each man from living according to his inclination, unless individuals harmed each other; for envy creates the beginning of strife. — Democritus

These days you are considered a weirdo if you live without a phone. Yet nobody cares if you live without a purpose. Anything wrong with that picture? — Ray N. Kuili

Promise me, Roxie," he said again. The way he said her name - low and slow and sweet - was like nothing she'd ever heard. She could feel his eyes on her in such a way it was as if he was tracing the oval of her face with his fingers. And all her halfhearted talk of leaving turned to ashes. "I promise. — Laura Frantz

A person only likes his friend to the degree he or she relates and connects to his character. — Anuj

Does the pursuit of truth give you as much pleasure as before? Surely it is not the knowing but the learning, not the possessing but the acquiring, not the being-there but the getting there that afford the greatest satisfaction. If I have exhausted something, I leave it in order to go again into the dark. Thus is that insatiable man so strange: when he has completed a structure it is not in order to dwell in it comfortably, but to start another. — Carl Friedrich Gauss

Dan wasn't bothered by the cold; nestled beneath two down comforters, he was warm as tea and toast. Yet the wind had found its way inside his head just as it found its way under the sashes and doorsills of the old Victorian he now called home. In his dream, he could hear it moaning around the hotel where he had spent one winter as a little boy. In his dream, he was that little boy. — Stephen King

No, I didn't forget Samoan - I understand it when you talk to me but, you know, to put phrases together I sound like I do in English. — Junior Seau