Braslav Russia Quotes & Sayings

Everybody trusts a guy in a raincoat. I don't know why. It's just one of those mystery facts. — Stephen King

What kills a relationship between two people is precisely the lack of challenge, the feeling that nothing is new anymore. We need to continue to be a surprise for each other. — Paulo Coelho

I wouldn't say I'm a slut. I'm just in touch with my inner slut. And, let me tell you, she rocks. — Belle Aurora

The wise have a solid sense of silence and the ability to keep a storehouse of secrets. Their capacity and character are respected. — Baltasar Gracian

Night had come - night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day. — Virginia Woolf

Simon had perfected the art of seeing what he wanted to see, because it's easier to go through life like that, to see the world as a series of familiar things, a place where everyone feels how you feel and sees what you see. — Catherine Lacey

Well, you can't control what they do, but you can control how you respond to it ... whether you allow it to drive you crazy, or occupy all of your thoughts, or whether you note what they're doing, consider it, and make a conscious decision as to how much you'll let it affect you — Jennifer Weiner

It seems that, after nineteen centuries of extraordinary glorification, the small Host for which so many cathedrals have sprung up, the small Host that has rested in millions of breasts and that has found a tabernacle and worshippers even in the desert - it seems that the triumphant Host of Lourdes and the Eucharistic Congresses of Chicago and Carthage remains as unknown, as secret as when it appeared for the first time in a room in Jerusalem. Light is in the world as in the days of St. John the Baptist, and the world does not know it — Francois Mauriac

He was the fantasy of every girl in the country. He was so far out of realm, her world, that she should have stopped thinking about him the second the door had closed. Should stop thinking about him immediately. Should never think about him again, except maybe as a client
and her prince.
And yet, the memory of his fingers against her skin refused to fade. — Marissa Meyer