Dhusorsomoy Quotes & Sayings

I walked her to her door and said good night, while Romeo waited. "I'll see you in the morning," I said, 'when the barking dogs arouse the sleeping tepee village and the smell of roasting coyote is in the air."

"My sisters will prepare me," she said. "I shall come to your wickiup in my white doeskin dress and lose my innocence on your buffalo robe."

"I will give you little ornaments to put in your hair, black as the crow's wing. I will give you red flannel and a looking-glass so that you may groom yourself."

"I'd also like to have a little spending money and a charge account at Wormser's," she said.

"Good night, Maiden Who Walks Like a Duck."

"Good night, Warrior Who Chickens Out at the Least Sign of Trouble. — Richard Bradford

I really strive to bring something new to each book. I don't want to write the same book over and over again. — Robert Crais

It's a round ball and a round bat, and you got to hit it square. — Pete Rose

Isn't there a flaw in the logic of that phrase - speak truth to power? It assumes that power doesn't know the truth. But power knows the truth just as well, if not better, than the powerless know the truth. Enron knows what it's doing. We don't have to tell it what it's doing. We have to tell other people what Enron is doing. Similarly, the people who are building the dams know what they're doing. The contractors know how much they're stealing. The bureaucrats know how much they're getting in bribes.
Power knows the truth. There isn't any doubt about that. It is really about telling the story. Good fiction is the truest thing that ever there was. Facts are not necessarily the only truths. Facts can be fiddled with by economists and bankers. There are other kinds of truth. It's about telling the story. As a writer, that's the best thing I can do. It's not just about digging up facts. — Arundhati Roy

For me, art history is like a feather bed - you fall into it and it catches you. — David Salle

When Mother smiled, no matter how nice her face had been before, it became incomparably nicer and everything around seemed to brighten up as well. — Leo Tolstoy