Derekas North Quotes & Sayings

The braid is always stronger than the strand. — Ryan Graudin

If you meet someone on the street that likes something that you did or likes the way you brought this character to life, that's really rewarding. That's really cool. — Elden Henson

If you have been divorced once - male or female, but especially for females - and you're over 40 you're actually a commodity. It means you were able to commit once, and you'll do it again. — Patti Stanger

Combat comes before victory. If God has chosen special trials for you to endure, be assured He has kept a very special place in His heart just for you. A badly bruised soul is one who is chosen. — Lettie B. Cowman

I'd seen it happen, how hard it was to get out. Every year, one or two kids would visit from college for a long October weekend and simply never leave. They came home, cocooned themselves in the familiar radius of the town limits, and never broke free again. Years later, you'd see them working in the kitchen at the pizza place, or sitting at the bar in the East Bank Tavern. Shoulders hunched, jaw set, skin slack. And in the waning light of their eyes, the barest sensation that once upon a time, they been somewhere else ... or maybe it was only a dream. — Kat Rosenfield

I'd dismembered it in my memories. I'd disremembered it. — Rabih Alameddine

Because of their historical theory of the "alienation of labor" (that the worker must become less and less in control of the work of his hands) the Marxist parties never fought for the man-worthy job itself. — Paul Goodman

I love jazz music and sad music. I'm a sentimental guy. I'm a romantic guy. — Fred Durst

We can choose the way of compassion, the way of forgiveness, the way of generosity. Or we can choose other paths and those have very real consequences in the world. This is absolutely crucial. — Rob Bell

I cannot live without brainwork. What else is there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the duncoloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material? — Arthur Conan Doyle