Canada When Is Thanksgiving Quotes & Sayings

I love Thanksgiving. In Canada, we don't really have a lot of history with Thanksgiving, and it's a holiday devoted to food, and that warms the cockles of my being. — Mackenzie Davis

Friendship is full of politics ... — Mayank Prasad

I'm from Canada, so Thanksgiving to me is just Thursday with more food. And I'm thankful for that. — Howie Mandel

Bend down, bend down. Excess is the only ease,
so bend. The sun is in the tree.
Put your mouth on mine. Bend down
beam & slash, for Dread is dreamed-up-scenes
of what comes after death. Is being
fled from what bends down in pain.
The elbow bends in the brain, lifts the cup.
The worst is yet to dream you up,
so bend down the intrigue
you dreamed. Flee the hayneedle in the brain's
tree.
Excess allures by leaps. Stars burn clean. Oriole bitches and gleams. Dread is the fear of being
less
forever. So bend. Bend down and kiss
what you see. — Stan Rice

But charity is the PURE LOVE OF CHRIST, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.
Moroni 7 — The Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter-day Saints

Canada is a sweet country. It is like your retarded cousin you see at Thanksgiving and sort of pat him on the head. You know, he's nice, but you don't take him seriously. That is Canada. — Tucker Carlson

So many times in life we're faced with a choice: when a task becomes super difficult, will we flip out and quit, or will we stay focused and keep fighting?". "With strong faith in God and some serious determination, every dream is possible - especially if your mama refuses to let you fly home, fry chicken, and give up — Gabrielle Douglas

You slide down in your seat and make yourself comfortable. On the screen in front of you, the movie image appears - enormous and overwhelming. If the movie is a good one, you allow yourself to be absorbed in its fantasy, and its dreams become part of your memories — Roger Ebert

A speck of saliva flew from Ida's mouth onto Ester's lower lip. When Ida released Ester's arm and left the toilets, Ester wiped her mouth and reapplied her lipstick, but still she felt it there, the fleck of spit. In the hours which followed, Ester put her mouth to the rims of countless champagne glasses and wine glasses and shot glasses, but still she felt that spack of saliva clinging on. And even hours later, when Ester and Bernard were alone in bed and he was kissing her, all she could think about was Ida's spit on her lip, as if it were still there, pressed between her mouth and Bernard's like a cold sore. — Alison Moore