Cammed Quotes & Sayings

It's not clear in physics why you can't see the future. — Brian Josephson

Because my brother Mycroft possesses it in a larger degree than I do. This was news to me indeed. If there were another man with such singular powers in England, how was it that neither police nor public had heard of him? — Arthur Conan Doyle

The person who understands that God is the only One who builds, becomes His beloved. And to that kind of pastor God will give sleep. — Sunday Adelaja

It takes a long time to become young. — Pablo Picasso

The gamin Gavroche puts in a strong plea for mercy, and his sister Eponine, if Hugo had chosen to take more trouble with her, might have been a great, and is actually the most interesting, character. But Cosette - the cosseted Cosette - Hugo did not know our word or he would have seen the danger - is merely a pretty and rather selfish little doll, and her precious lover Marius is almost ineffable. — George Saintsbury

The truth is still the truth whether or not you believe it. Can we say the same about lies? No, lies only exist because we believe them. If we don't believe in lies, they simply disappear. — Miguel Angel Ruiz

Happiness is the overall experience of pleasure and meaning — Tal Ben-Shahar

I'm not concerned about the very poor, we have a safety net there, if we need to repair, I'll fix it. I'm not concerned about the very rich, they're doing just fine. I'm concerned about the very heart of America, the 90-95 percent of Americans who are struggling, and I'll continue to take that message across the country. — Mitt Romney

The eyes closed. Cammed each night out of that safe furrow the bulk of this city's waking each sunrise again set virtuously to plowing, what rich soils had he turned, what concentric planets uncovered? What voices overheard, flinders of luminescent gods glimpsed among the wallpaper's stained foliage, candlestubs lit to rotate in the air over him, prefiguring the cigarette he or a friend must fall asleep someday smoking, thus to end among the flaming, secret salts held all those years by the insatiable stuffing of a mattress that could keep vestiges of every nightmare sweat, helpless overflowing bladder, viciously, tearfully consummated wet dream, like the memory bank to a computer of the lost? She was overcome all at once by a need to touch him, as if she could not believe in him, or would not remember him, without it. — Thomas Pynchon

Run, John, and work, the law commands,
Yet give me neither feet nor hand.
Much better new the Gospel brings:
It bids me fly and gives me winds. — John Berridge