Chiots Nordiques Quotes & Sayings

I began my pilgrimage on the first of January in 1953. It is my spiritual birthday of sorts. It was a period in which I was merged with the whole. No longer was I a seed buried under the ground, but I felt as a flower reaching out effortlessly toward the sun. — Peace Pilgrim

After a pretty man breaks your heart, you're happy for a plain man. — Christopher Buehlman

Take but degree away, untune that string, and hark, what discord follows! — William Shakespeare

Don't try to outguess what's going on in publishing, and write what you want to write. — George Singleton

The odds of not meeting in this life are so great that every meeting is like a miracle. It's a wonder that we don't make love to every single person we meet. — Yoko Ono

I hate doctors! They'll do anything ... to keep you coming to them. They'll sell their souls. What's worse, they'll sell yours, and you never know it till one day you find yourself in hell. — Eugene O'Neill

It is true that authoritarian governments increasingly see the Internet as a threat in part because they see the U.S. government behind the Internet. — Evgeny Morozov

I have noticed that most men when they enter a barber shop and must wait their turn, drop into a chair and pick up a magazine. I simply sit down and pick up the thread of my sea wanderings, which began more than fifty years ago and is not quite ended. There is hardly a waiting room in the east that has not served as my cockpit, whether I was waiting to board a train or to see a dentist. And I am usually still trimming sheets when the train starts or drill begins to whine. — E.B. White

This aircraft tops everything. All the others look old as compared to this one. — Niki Lauda

I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it. — Virginia Woolf

Then the Alumni Association man cleared his throat and gave out with a pious spiel about Winifred Griffen Prior, saint on earth. How everyone fibs when it's a question of money! I suppose the old bitch pictured the whole thing when she made her bequest, stingy as it is. She knew my presence would be requested; she wanted me writhing in the town's harsh gaze while her own munificence was lauded. — Margaret Atwood

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console. — Charles Caleb Colton