Dosen Untar Quotes & Sayings

Writing as writing. Writing as rioting. Writing as righting.
On the best days, all three. — Teju Cole

The look of wistful passion in Kellan's eyes in that one brief glance almost had me running across the room to throw myself in his arms - Thoughtless — S.C. Stephens

The act of love ... is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself. — Albert Camus

Dara doesn't respond well to commands," Vine said. "It's a rather endearing quality, I find. — Jordan Rivet

I couldn't love anyone more than I do you, it would kill me. And I couldn't love anyone less because it would always feel like less. Even if I loved some other girl, that's all I would ever think about, the difference between loving her and loving you. — Rainbow Rowell

Just try to get the puck and make plays, not so much worry about scoring or getting an assist or points, just try to get it and make plays. That should take care of itself. — Patrick Kane

There's too many actors in LA. I mean, I'll go out there from time to time, but I always find it pretty soul-destroying. I don't drive, and the people kind of rub me the wrong way. It's just not home. You know? It's not New York. It's not ... my town. — Michael Imperioli

I think they're having trouble adjusting to the emotions they have outside of their dreams. At any rate, they keep acting like demented teenagers from a porno version of a John Hughes film. (Asmodeus) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I can't know entirely what's at stake beforehand; you find out as you go. I love to take a poem, for instance, that starts with something seemingly frivolous or inconsequential and then grows in gravity until by the end it's something very serious. — James Tate

Larry sat with his arm stretched out along the top of the front seat. His shirt cuff was pulled back by his position and displayed his slim, strong wrist and the lower part of his brown arm lightly covered with fine hairs. The sun shone goldly upon them. Something in Isabel's immobility attracted my attention, and I glanced at her. She was so still that you might have thought her hypnotized. Her breath was hurried. Her eyes were fixed on the sinewy wrist with its little golden hairs and on that long, delicate, but powerful hand, and I have never seen on a human countenance such a hungry concupiscence as I saw then on hers. It was a mask of lust. I would never have believed that her beautiful features could assume an expression of such unbridled sensuality. It was animal rather than human. The beauty was stripped from her face; the look upon it made her hideous and frightening. It horribly suggested the bitch in heat and I felt rather sick. — W. Somerset Maugham

Painters get up and paint. Writers get up and write. I like to get up and act. It's not a big deal. It makes me happy. — Samuel L. Jackson