Chillalla Quotes & Sayings

I like that Zarek. He quality people! He even gave me a can opener so I don't have to use my fangs. I like that. Metal is hard on the teeth. Pork and beans popsicle. Yummy! My favorite! (Simi) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

She didn't feel thirty. But then again again, what was being thirty supposed to feel like? When she was younger, thirty seemed so far away, she thought that a woman of that age would be so wise and knowledgeable, so settled in her life with a husband and children and a career. She had none of those things. She still felt as clueless as she had felt when she was twenty, only with a few more gray hairs and crow's feet around her eyes. — Cecelia Ahern

But family connections are weird. Even if your relatives aren't good to you, they're still your blood. You can't lose that connection completely. And believe me, I've got a few relatives on my dad's side I'd love to lose. — Rick Riordan

Grace is part of the very nature of God, and He cannot change. He is indeed the generous landowner of the parable in Matthew 20:1-16, continually going to the marketplace of life to find those in need of a day's wages so He can bring them into His vineyard and then reward them out of all proportion to their labors. — Jerry Bridges

If it was up to me, I would just wear jeans and t-shirts, even to red carpets, but then no one would photograph me, so that would make me very sad. So you know, I've gotta keep up with the rest of the female population and sometimes try a little harder. — Shakira

That which we fear, we somehow beckon near and engage in a dance, as toxically intimate as a pair of suspicious lovers...we're magnetized waltzers and our hopes and fears emit some kind of electrical impulses that attract all that we dream, and all that we dread. We live and die on a dance floor of our own making. — Karen Marie Moning

I might mention all the divine charms of a bright spring day, but if you had never in your life utterly forgotten yourself in straining your eyes after the mounting lark, or in wandering through the still lanes when the fresh-opened blossoms fill them with a sacred silent beauty like that of fretted aisles, where would be the use of my descriptive catalogue? — George Eliot