Classy And Boujee Quotes & Sayings

Time is a tool - use it well. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Intimacy is a difficult art ... — Virginia Woolf

We are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships; we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us ... — Yasmina Khadra

Philosophy is so interesting and intriguing that it is almost boring not to be a philosopher. — Debasish Mridha

OK, I'm insane, too, but I'm also charming, so that makes it all right. — Ryan Attard

The devil never seems so busy as where the saints are, which is another reason why I feel how difficult it would be to be religious. — Elizabeth Charles

I prefer music that invents a universe. — Matthew Bellamy

Because in loving his darkness I found my own. — Lidia Yuknavitch

At his age, it can be overwhelming and painful to harbor a thought accompanied by too much nostalgia. Not that he wanted to. Mabel, in her final years, had stopped listening to music. The songs of her teenage years brought her back to people and feelings of that time - people she could never see again and sensations that were no longer coming. It was too much for her. There are people who can manage such things. There are those of us who can no longer walk, but can close our eyes and remember a summer hike through a field, or the feeling of cool grass beneath our feet, and smile. Who still have the courage to embrace the past, and give it life and a voice in the present. But Mabel was not one of those people. Maybe she lacked that very form of courage. Or maybe her humanity was so complete, so expansive, that she would be crushed by her capacity to imagine the love that was gone. — Derek B. Miller

I would like a light on somewhere, a candle perhaps, stuck into a bottle, some echo of college, but anything like that would be too great a risk; so I have to make do with the searchlight, the glow of it from the grounds below, filtered through his white curtains which are the same as mine. I want to see what can be seen, of him, take him in, memorize him, save him up so I can live on the image, later: the lines of his body, the texture of his flesh, the glisten of sweat on his pelt, his long sardonic unrevealing face. I ought to have done that with Luke, paid more attention, to the details, the moles and scars, the singular creases; I didn't and he's fading. Day by day, night by night — Margaret Atwood

You don't have true freedom until you allow a diversity of opinion and a diversity of voices. — Don Lemon