Distefanos Bakery Quotes & Sayings

Howard Dean is a politician, a medical doctor and a Democrat. So he has three reasons to tell women to take off their clothes now. — Jay Leno

Strive for excellence, rather than perfection, and the audience may so enjoy your beautiful, expressive tone that they will readily forgive a few stray notes. — Ruth Bonetti

The good things in history are usually of very short duration, but afterward have a decisive influence on what happens over long periods of time. — Hannah Arendt

I didn't feel lonely until there was something to yearn for. Loneliness and longing are two sides of the same coin. — Jostein Gaarder

My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. — George S. Patton

I think people have the capacity to be many different things and many seemingly contradictory behaviors. — Richard Ayoade

How thin the air felt at the forest's edge, how ghostly the trees that guarded their realm ... The whole world seemed as delicate as a dandelion seed, and as fleeting ... How sad to know that the figment village of my imagination would not vanish when I ended, to understand that it was not I who had invented the moon the first time I realized how lovely it was. To admit that it was not my breath that made the winds blow ... [M]y heart, my heart knew that when I closed my eyes I invented the night sky and the stars too. Wasn't the whole dome of the sky the same shape as the inside of my skull? Didn't I create the sun and the day when I raised my eyelids every morning? — Martine Leavitt

And sing to those that hold the vital shears; And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound. — John Milton

Out of the clouds I hear a faint bark, as of a faraway dog. It is strange how the world cocks its ear to that sound, wondering. Soon it is louder: the honk of geese, invisible, but coming on.
The flock emerges from the low clouds, a tattered banner of birds, dipping and rising, blown up and blown down, blown together and blown apart, but advancing, the wind wrestling lovingly with each winnowing wing. When the flock is a blur in the far sky I hear the last honk, sounding taps for summer.
It is warm behind the driftwood now, for the wind has gone with the geese. So would I
if I were the wind. — Aldo Leopold