Cuchillos On My Block Quotes & Sayings

All that ran through my mind at her suggesstion was running through the park with a ton of turned Disney Princesses and the three little pigs hot on our trail. — Patricia Hamill

Everyone would tell me they couldn't identify with sexual abuse. No one says they can't identify with the tales of the Greek gods and goddesses because they don't live on Mt. Olympus. — Alexander Chee

My spirit is too ancient to understand the separation of soul & gender — Ntozake Shange

My painting represents the victory of the forces of darkness and peace over the powers of light and evil. — Ad Reinhardt

The minimum necessary structuring ingredient of every ideology is to distance itself from another ideology, to denounce its other as ideology. — Slavoj Zizek

Once anthropology and geology had opened up the pre-recordkeeping darkness of humanity's long, slow, sustained infancy as suitable grounds for speculation, writers began trying to imagine human existence as it must have been with only stone-age technology. — Paul Di Filippo

Writers need restrictions. If somebody just says, "Hey, do you want to write a novel, or an article, or a movie, or a short story, you get shut down." — Mitchell Hurwitz

Writing a novel is easier than writing a memoir; you are not constrained by the truth. — Steve Bisley

Critics have a job to do. I understand that. It's not just to criticize. They're trying to interpret art for the public. — Paul Emsley

Mom was the midwife who delivered stories to me. — Rachael Hanel

Soccer is a feast for the eyes that watch it and a joy for the body that plays it — Eduardo Galeano

Every one of us strives to be a better person; and if I am to contribute one thing of myself, it would be compassion. — Masiela Lusha

The forehands or backhands don't mean much after three hours. — Maria Sharapova

Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I was lone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and nigh swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.
But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!
Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache. — Pablo Neruda