Corne Quotes & Sayings

I'm not a rock star, I'm not Seane Corne or Shiva Rea or Rodney Yee or Baron (Baptiste) or John Friend, and thank God, because there's just too much risk of getting hit by flying tomatoes if you stick out that much. — Beryl Bender Birch

Praised be the Lord, who has redeemed me from myself. — Teresa Of Avila

In good yeares corne is hay, in ill yeares straw is corne. — George Herbert

It is simply science fiction fantasy to say that, if you do not raise the debt ceiling, that everything is going to collapse. — Mike Lee

No, Daemon," Jaenelle said gently, looking up at him with her ancient, wistful, haunted eyes. "Everyone knows I'm different. It just doesn't matter to some - and it matters a lot to others." A tear slipped down her cheek. "Why am I different?" Daemon looked away. Oh, child. How could he explain that she was dreams made flesh? That for some of them, she made the blood in their veins sing? That she was a kind of magic the Blood hadn't seen in so very, very long? "What does the Priest say?" Jaenelle sniffed. "He says growing up is hard work." Daemon smiled sympathetically. "It is that. — Anne Bishop

There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies. — George R R Martin

When our people were fed out of the common store, and laboured jointly together, glad was he could slip from his labour, or slumber over his taske he cared not how, nay, the most honest among them would hardly take so much true paines in a weeke, as now for themselves they will doe in a day: neither cared they for the increase, presuming that howsoever the harvest prospered, the generall store must maintaine them, so that wee reaped not so much Corne from the labours of thirtie, as now three or foure doe provide for themselves. — John Smith

Did you pull rank?" "On a chief warrant officer?" They'd reached the link, and he slapped the call button. "Do I look suicidal? — Tanya Huff

If the braine sowes not corne, it plants thistles. — George Herbert

The corne hides it self in the snow, as an old man in furrs. — George Herbert

He killed a man," Mom said. "He was framed," Grandma Frida said. "You don't even know the story," Mom said. Grandma shrugged. "Framed. A man that pretty can't be a murderer." Mother stared at her. "Penelope, I'm seventy-two years old. You let me enjoy my fantasy." "Go Grandma." Arabella pumped her fist in the air. — Ilona Andrews