Choupette Bag Quotes & Sayings

But it was not enough simply to perceive injustice. Mass resistance was possible only when people believed they had the collective capacity to change things. For poor people, this required identifying with the oppressed, and counting yourself among them - which was something most trailer park residents were absolutely unwilling to do. — Matthew Desmond

To do just the opposite is also a form of imitation. — Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

For rich people, the sky is just an extra, a gift of nature. The poor, on the other hand, can see it as it is, a gift of infinite grace. — Albert Camus

Grief is not a fleeting emotion. This pain would be inside me for a long time, and all I could do was learn to live with it and hope that, someday, I'd be able to breathe again without hurting. — Karen Lynch

If I hadn't given my money away, I'd have had more than anyone else on the planet. — Bill Gates

The brooch was a cheap bauble, but one with powerful sentimental value. Not that Irene was the sentimental type, aside from the smother-love she lavished on her toy poodle, but she'd known Colette her whole life. They'd grown up in the same grimy apartment house in Bay Ridge and had at one time — Pamela Burford

Formerly, people used to grieve over the departed, but in our days they grieve over the survivors. — Saib Tabrizi

The birth of my sons. The birth of new emotions ... what a privilege. What a blessing. — Elle Macpherson

Reading was not just an escape or a Band-Aid; it was a deep form of feeling seen and recognized, and being able to see and recognize other kindred spirits. My dad was a writer, too, which also likely had something to do with that. — Garth Risk Hallberg

I would say a magical thing happened on when the big 40th birthday came. I felt like a light kind of just went off, and maybe that's because I felt like at 40 I had the right to say and be who I wanted to be, say what I wanted to say, and accept what I didn't want to accept. — Halle Berry

Thunderheads were pouring toward them through the ragged teeth of the White Mountains, and Lisey counted seven dark spots where the high slopes had been smudged away by cauls of rain. Brilliant lightnings flashed inside those stormbags and between those two of them, connecting them like some fantastic fairy bridge, was a double rainbow that arched over Mount Cranmore in a frayed loophole of blue. — Stephen King