Deichert Music Box Quotes & Sayings

Seek O mortal, the meaning of life in your innermost silence! — Preeth Nambiar

Had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres. — William Shakespeare

I like the Polanski stuff more than anything else. Rosemary's Baby is still one of my favorite movies of all time. The idea of her being impregnated with the devil is just so frightening. — Dylan McDermott

I have time only for cricket, and when I am not playing, I love to be at home, chat with my family, do puja with them, call for some yummy paani puri, etc. Also I love to cook. I can make dal, sabji and chicken! But, at home everybody's a vegetarian, so I can't cook non-veg at home! — Suresh Raina

My mother was always in the center of her own agitation, seeming as though, far away, part of her was being chased along a dirt road by a swarm of bees. — Laura Kasischke

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness. — J.K. Rowling

The babe at first feeds upon the mother's bosom, but it is always on her heart. — Henry Ward Beecher

It must always be borne in mind that the assumption of woman's social superiority lies at the root of these rules of conduct. — Humphry Davy

Old folks is the nation. — Toni Cade Bambara

Happiness is that butterfly which comes and sit in your garden until you try to grab it, The moment we try to grab it, it flies off, so never try to grab it, just let it go, because it will come back again for search of honey and to give you happiness again. — Debolina Bhawal

Don't settle, but settle. — Cameron Conaway

The slate black sky. The middle step
of the back porch. And long ago

my mother's necklace, the beads
rolling north and south. Broken

the rose stem, water into drops, glass
knob on the bedroom door. Last summer's

pot of parsley and mint, white roots
shooting like streamers through the cracks.

Years ago the cat's tail, the bird bath,
the car hood's rusted latch. Broken

little finger on my right hand at birth--
I was pulled out too fast. What hasn't

been rent, divided, split? Broken the days into nights, the night sky

into stars, the stars into patterns
I make up as I trace them

with a broken-off blade
of grass. Possible, unthinkable,

the cricket's tiny back as I lie
on the lawn in the dark, my hart

a blue cup fallen from someone's hands. — Dorianne Laux