Donkere Tijden Quotes & Sayings

Woman is mistress of the art of completely imbittering the life of the person on whom she depends. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

The idol of Authority must be shattered in this town. — Henrik Ibsen

In form and feature, face and limb, I grew so like my brother That folks got taking me for him And each for one another. For one of us was born a twin And not a soul knew which ... — Henry Sambrooke Leigh

When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. — Jenny Han

When the problems in Northern Ireland started, it was not a question of Protestantism or Catholicism, because the Catholic church was the only church at that time-it was a nationalist conflict. — Harri Holkeri

The roll of honor consists of the names of meant who have squared their conduct by ideals of duty. — Woodrow Wilson

(First Kiss)
"It's not that - " she turned to protest but stopped when he brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her gaze widened as he inspected it with a half-smile.
"A vestige of jam tart, I believe. But alas," he gave a helpless shrug. "I have no napkin." Before she realized what he was about, he brushed her lips in a feathery kiss, lingering at the corner of her mouth, where his tongue flicked out to taste her. The unexpectedness of it stunned her.
"Lord Hadley! Wh-what are you doing?"
"If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch. Perhaps I should try again? — Victoria Vane

Leap of faith. Shit, no parachute. - Katherine Yunker — Larry Smith

Your mind can see more than your eyes.
Your heart can carry more than your hands.
Your soul can go further than your feet. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Everything changes. This is the key to feeling powerful, but also to being creative in the world. — Robert Greene

I'll have to put more earrings on. I bet that someone could analyze me and tell my condition by my earrings. — Edie Sedgwick

I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die? — William Butler Yeats