Corallitic Quotes & Sayings

This initiation ceremony, known as 'signing the Official Secrets Act', has no legal force; everyone is bound by the Act whether they sign the form or not. — Clive Ponting

I'm that same David Crockett, fresh from the backwoods, half-horse, half-alligator, a little touched with the snapping turtle; can wade the Mississippi, leap the Ohio, ride upon a streak of lightning, and slip without a scratch down a honey locust [tree]. — Davy Crockett

~ A taste of Heaven on earth!" "THE ENCHANTING LEGENDS OF SHILOH MANSION:The Young King!" ~ — DeBorrah K. Ogans

The years ... when I pursued the inner images were the most important time of my life. Everything else is to be derived from this. It began at that time, and the later details hardly matter anymore. My entire life consisted in elaborating what had burst forth from the unconscious and flooded me like an enigmatic stream and threatened to break me. That was the stuff and material for more than only one life. Everything later was merely the outer classification, the scientific elaboration, and the integration into life. But the numinous beginning, which contained everything was then. — C. G. Jung

Look, I come from vaudeville, I come from burlesque, I come from heartaches, I come from sadness, I come from gladness, I come from work and sweat and respect for the craft. — Mickey Rooney

I could only handle a zillion problems at a time. A zillion and one was beyond me. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Eyes darker than a midnight lake penetrate my thoughts with their intensity, and a big hand warmly covers mine — Poppet

He is truly great that is little in himself, and that maketh no account of any height of honors. — Thomas A Kempis

Complaining about life's little miseries was one of the few conversational luxuries people were allowed, and at the moment, Kaylin couldn't put herself behind complaint. — Michelle Sagara

Made up of corallitic accretions and painful increments, lit on rare occasions by bolts of revelation, and then stuffed behind the wainscotting to grope in the mouse-turd dust, art is the equivalent of athlete's foot, at best an exquisite itch, at worst an excuse to stop walking. On the emotional side, it is either masturbation with a hockey glove or a night beneath the sliding moon that shames Eros. — Harold Town