Coolman Aurora Quotes & Sayings

When I read books it's to escape. It's so I don't have to talk to people. — Stephen Colbert

All important persons have about them someone in a subordinate position who has their ear. These dependents are very susceptible to slights, and, when they are not treated as they think they should be, will by well-directed shafts, constantly repeated, poison the minds of their patrons against those who have provoked their animosity. It is well to keep in with them. — W. Somerset Maugham

We love to hear some men speak, though we hear not what they say; the very air they breathe is rich and perfumed, and the sound of their voices falls on the ear like the rustling of leaves or the crackling of the fire. They stand many deep. — Henry David Thoreau

When Vincent didn't understand something, he would figure it out. When Frank didn't understand something, he'd light it on fire. — Nicole Castle

Most content People don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything they've got. — Belle Aurora

That a universe exists within every human being. That to the blood cells and organs in your body, you are god. That this universe is only one individual among infinite others. — Peter Tieryas

The Toyota plowed headlong into the boy. But there was no impact. No screams, no blood, no bending metal.
The boy simply dematerialized in a swirl of white light. — Laura Oliva

If a team is to reach its potential, each player must be willing to subordinate his personal goals to the good of the team. — Bud Wilkinson

Life is always easier when lived for others, and living for others is the best way I know to live for yourself. — Chris Matakas

And the process, the ritual, quieted the hum of his mind so he could write. — James Renner

You have a voice in your head that keeps saying things...haven't you noticed. — Sam Harris

Women can go mad with insomnia.
The sleep-deprived roam houses that have lost their familiarity. With tea mugs in hand, we wander rooms, looking on shelves for something we will recognize: a book title, a photograph, the teak-carved bird
a souvenir from what place? A memory almost rises when our eyes rest on a painting's grey sweep of cloud, or the curve of a wooden leg in a corner. Fingertips faintly recall the raised pattern on a chair cushion, but we wonder how these things have come to be here, in this stranger's home.
Lost women drift in places where time has collapsed. We look into our thoughts and hearts for what has been forgotten, for what has gone missing. What did we once care about? Whom did we love? We are emptied. We are remote. Like night lilies, we open in the dark, breathe in the shadowy world. Our soliloquies are heard by no one. — Cathy Ostlere