Diseasewhich Quotes & Sayings

The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, — E. Lockhart

Boredom is restlessness of the soul. It is an internal message reminding you that you're better than the stagnancy you've settled for. — Steve Maraboli

I don't know you? Hell, I know you! You're a damn coward, is what you are! You're afraid of living because you think it means giving up this cross you've been carrying around your whole life. But this time, you've gone too far. You think you're the only one in the world with feelings? You think you'll just walk away from Denise and everything's going to go back to normal now? You think you'll be happier? You won't Taylor, You won't let yourself do that. — Nicholas Sparks

Karen was only five minutes late. She hugged Samantha, pecked — John Grisham

Maybe for some people, falling in love is an explosion, fireworks against a black sky and tremors rumbling through the earth. One blazing moment. For me, it's been happening for months, as quietly as a seed sprouting. Love sneaked through me, spreading roots around my heart, until, in the blink of an eye, the green of it broke the dirt: hidden one moment, there the next. — Emily Henry

It is not easy in this world for one person to understand the next one. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

You can never go back to the first two albums in a career. — Toni Braxton

Avoid the crowd. Do your own thinking independently. Be the chess player, not the chess piece. — Ralph Charell

She'd learned that to cling too tightly was to strangle. — Erika Swyler

What hope is there for medical scienceto ever become a true sciencewhen the entire structure of medical knowledgeis built around the idea that there is an entity called diseasewhich can be expelled when the right drug is found? — John Henry Tilden

I hesitate to say what the functions of the modern journalist may be, but I imagine that they do not exclude the intelligent anticipation of the facts even before they occur. — George Curzon, 1st Marquess Curzon Of Kedleston

In the narrow thread of sod between the shaved banks and the toppling fences grow the relics of what once was Illinois - the prairie.
No one in the bus sees these relics. A worried farmer, his fertilizer bill projecting from his shirt pocket, looks blankly at the lupines, lespedezas or Baptisias that originally pumped nitrogen out of the prairie air and into his black loamy acres. He does not distinguish them from the parvenu quack-grass in which they grow. Were I to ask him the name of that white spike of pea-like flowers hugging the fence, he would shake his head. A weed, likely. — Aldo Leopold