Drexl Quotes & Sayings

Love is reckless because true emotions are immune to logic. The most beautiful love stories are often the most tragic. — Jewel E. Ann

One good thing about donation, once you do it, you get addicted to it because it brings great joy and happiness to you. — Debasish Mridha

What do you think is there that you cannot find here? — Alan Cohen

I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid. — S.J. Watson

And in just this way the days after my father's death became weeks became months in the familiar ceaseless cruelty of time, carrying us ever forward even when we sit still. Time does not pass, pain grows. (p.223) — Niall Williams

I didn't grow up with pets, but I live alone and figured a dog might be good for me. His name is Drexl, and he's a shih-tzu. — Marsha Thomason

But is there not something strange about any room that has been occupied through generations? Death has lurked in it ... love has been rosy red in it ... births have been here ... all the passions ... all the hopes. It is full of wraths. — L.M. Montgomery

Chains and stuff are nice, don't get me wrong I love them and I wear chains, but I can do without it. — Big Sean

Real obstacles don't take you in circles. They can be overcome. Invented ones are like a maze. — Barbara Sher

We think in terms of apostolic journeys. God dares to put His greatest ambassadors in chains. — Watchman Nee

Every time you share your vision, you strengthen your own subconscious belief that you can achieve it. — Jack Canfield

If revenge is a dish best served cold, then knowledge is a dish best left untouched. — Jill Archer

Sonnet V
I touch you as a lonely violin touches the suburbs of the faraway place
patiently the river asks for its share of the drizzle
and, bit by bit, a tomorrow passing in poems approaches
so I carry faraway's land and it carries me on travel's road
On a mare made of your virtues, my soul weaves
a natural sky made of your shadows, one chrysalis at a time.
I am the son of what you do in the earth, son of my wounds
that have lit up the pomegranate blossoms in your closed-up gardens
Out of jasmine the night's blood streams white. Your perfume,
my weakness and your secret, follows me like a snakebite. And your hair
is a tent of wind autumn in color. I walk along with speech
to the last of the words a bedouin told a pair of doves
I palpate you as a violin palpates the silk of the faraway time
and around me and you sprouts the grass of an ancient place - anew — Mahmoud Darwish