Dinnigan Quotes & Sayings

This was meant for you. Only you. — K.A. Linde

Winter in New England is merciless and cruel, a season that instills a particular melancholy in its residents and a hopelessness that is all but impossible to shake. — Alice Hoffman

They mock Him by denying His very existence, but instead of feeling free, they just feel angry because suddenly life doesn't make sense anymore. They want to be rid of God, and they want life to have meaning anyway, and it just doesn't work and it makes them angry. And anger kills. I've lived long enough to know, and I can see it coming. Anger is going to be right at the heart of the demise of this country. America is going to fall, and when we do, we're not getting back up again. — Ann Tatlock

I always loved the Clippers. You root for the underdog. Obviously, everybody in L.A. is a Laker fan, but deep down inside, you root for the Clippers. If you're a true Los Angelean, that's how it happens. You always want the Clippers to do well. — Baron Davis

It was not so much fun. His work became confused with Nicole's problems; in addition, her income had increased so fast of late that it seemed to belittle his work. Also, for the purpose of her cure, he had for many years pretended to a rigid domesticity from which he was drifting away, and the pretence became more arduous in this effortless immobility, in which he was inevitably subjected to microscopic examination. When Dick could no longer play what he wanted to play on the piano, it was an indication that life was bring refined down to a point. He stayed in the big room a long time, listening to the buzz of the electric clock, listening to time. — F Scott Fitzgerald

The dull gray days of the preceding winter and spring, so uneventless and monotonous, seemed more associated with what she cared for now above all price. She would fain have caught at the skirts of that departing time, and prayed it to return, and give her back what she had too little valued while it was yet in her possession. What a vain show life seemed! How unsubstantial, and flickering, and flitting! It was as if from some aerial belfry, high up above the stir and jar of the earth, there was a bell continually tolling, "All are shadows! All are passing! All is past!" And when the morning dawned, cool and gray, like many a happier morning before ... it seemed as if the terrible night were unreal as a dream; it, too, was a shadow. It, too, was past. — Elizabeth Gaskell