Cheese Wagstaff Quotes & Sayings

Salvation was mysterious, wasn't that always true? — Alice Hoffman

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't understand the need for power, really. There are more important pursuits."
"Only those who have never felt powerless can afford to think like you. — Heather W. Petty

It remains an astonishing, disturbing fact that in America - a nation where nearly every new drug is subjected to rigorous scrutiny as a potential carcinogen, and even the bare hint of a substance's link to cancer ignites a firestorm of public hysteria and media anxiety - one of the most potent and common carcinogens known to humans can be freely bought and sold at every corner store for a few dollars. — Siddhartha Mukherjee

There's one thing I remember about Muhammad Ali. He said "I don't like my condition, but if this is what the Good Lord has planned for me to deal with, I'm happy with that." You have to understand, that comes from my idol, one of the guys that got me started in boxing. — Roy Jones Jr.

All love stories have much in common. I wen through the same thing at one point in my life. But that's not what I remember. What I remember is that love returned in the form of another man, new hopes, and new dreams. — Paulo Coelho

Everyday is a holiday when you're RVD — Rob Van Dam

As ever, books remained a medium through which Theodore and Edith connected and interpreted larger world. — Doris Kearns Goodwin

And I've been hurt hurt bad. I might be just twenty-six, but I'm an old woman in disguise twenty-six goin'on sixty-five. — Aretha Franklin

LONDON. TRINITY TERM one week old. Implacable June weather. Fiona Maye, a High Court judge, at home on Sunday evening, supine on a chaise longue, staring past her stockinged feet toward the end of the room, toward a partial view of recessed bookshelves by the fireplace and, to one side, by a tall window, a tiny Renoir lithograph of a bather, bought by her thirty years ago for fifty pounds. Probably a fake. Below it, centered on a round walnut table, a blue vase. No memory of how she came by it. Nor when she last put flowers in it. The fireplace not lit in a year. Blackened raindrops falling irregularly into the grate with a ticking sound against balled-up yellowing newsprint. A Bokhara rug spread on wide polished floorboards. Looming at the edge of vision, a baby grand piano bearing silver-framed family photos on its deep black shine. On the floor by the chaise longue, within her reach, the draft of a judgment. — Ian McEwan

It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred? — Julie Anne Peters