Comportamiento Quotes & Sayings

Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with nature and itself. He who has a contempt for poetry, cannot have much respect for himself, or for anything else. — William Hazlitt

Most of us, Ogu, live with a vague dissatisfaction, if we are lucky. Living as we do, upon us is imposed a particular rhythm - birth, education, a job, marriage, then birth again, but we all have minds don't we?
For most Indians of your age, just getting any job is enough. You were more fortunate for you had options before you.
These sound like paternal homilies, don't they, but you've always had surrogate parents, your aunts, and then in Delhi, your Pultukaku, and we've not really spent much time together. — Upamanyu Chatterjee

Avoid the profane novelty of words, St. Paul says (I Timothy 6:20) ... For if novelty is to be avoided, antiquity is to be held tight to; and if novelty is profane, antiquity is sacred. — Vincent Of Lerins

A drug is a substance which, if injected into a rabbit, produces a paper. — Otto Loewi

If your struggle with the conflicting parts of yourself is conscious, you are able to choose consciously the response that will create the karma that you desire. You will be able to bring to bear upon your decision an awareness of what lies behind each choice, and the consequences of each choice, and choose accordingly. When you enter into your decision-making dynamic consciously, you insert your will consciously into the creative cycle through which your soul evolves, and you enter consciously into your own evolution. — Gary Zukav

Don't necessarily avoid sharp edges. Occasionally they are necessary to leadership. — Donald Rumsfeld

All the things magicians do
Could be done by me and you
Freely, if we only knew. — C.S. Lewis

I'm not asking you fight. all i need is a ride. then you can crawl back under your rock and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist all you like, but first, get your keys, little girl, we're leaving. — Dianne Sylvan

She couldn't tell how long she'd been searching for her daughter.
It was dusk, but it had seemed darker as she ran through the wood, tripping on hooked tree roots, her feet crunching through crisp, curled ash leaves. — Sanjida Kay