Dane Cook Rough Around The Edges Quotes & Sayings

Inez? I'm sorry I bit you," he said with sincere regret, and then inspiration made him add, "Bastien made me do it. — Lynsay Sands

Feeding her raw oysters at Charleston, or sharing the gingerbread with lemon chiffon sauce at Bicycle. — Laura Lippman

If ever I was sure that someone was coming to help me, I should run like hell. — Henry David Thoreau

Hollywood will put you in a box, so to speak. Some people will have seen you in 'La Bamba' or another dramatic film and think, 'Okay, that's what Lou does.' But they don't really have an idea of the range or diversity that I can bring to a project. — Lou Diamond Phillips

I do care about real life. It's just not as interesting as what's in my books. — Christina Dodd

The small things are the fuses to get the bigger things to explode. — Roseanne Cheng

After 30 novels, release day is still a thrill. It's always a little bittersweet, too. — Luanne Rice

I have come to believe that large print, thick and heavy paper, and wide margins and oversize leading is indicative of the expected intelligence of the reader ... Compare children's books and books on Web Duhsign or other X-in-21-days books. If the reading level of a specification is below college level, chances are the people behind it are morons and the result morose. — Erik Naggum

All the expressions that are possible crossed its face, as if its thoughts were wise and limitless one moment, daft and animal the next. And Liga too was pulled towards awe, that this little girl-thing gave off such an air of being entitled, and then towards pity at its abjectness and its frailty and-how soft it was, the surface of it, and so warm! She could not believe the tiny makings of its mouth, or its perfected eyelashes, its ears like uncrumpling buds, all down and tenderness. She was full of the joy of her father being gone-that she could sit like this all night if she wanted, not bothered or harangued, without a remark from any other person, and watch this creature busy with its morsel of life, its scrap of sleep, its breaths light as moth-wings lifting its narrow red chest. — Margo Lanagan