Duzo Sily Quotes & Sayings

Gerard Butler is like a big kid; he's so nice. — Madeline Carroll

The Iraqi regime is a threat of unique urgency ... It has developed weapons of mass death. — George W. Bush

Karma means always wanting more of what won't get you anywhere in the first place. — Deepak Chopra

I trusted an untrustworthy man, — Jennifer Becton

The heart of Christ is not only the heart of a man but has in it also the tenderness and gentleness of a woman. Jesus was not a man in the rigid sense of manhood as distinct from womanhood, but, as the Son of Man, the complete Head of Humanity. — A.B. Simpson

Flowers are the poetry of the earth we are supposed to love and understand. — Debasish Mridha

George was full of hatred. Of his own weakness and stupidity, of his magic, of the stubbornness and the pride of Beatrice and Marit, and, last of all, hatred of Dr. Gharn, who had started it all.
But the hatred swayed to pity. Then to hopelessness. Then back to anger.
Every once in a great while, he felt a moment of peace, usually when he caught a glimpse of Beatrice and Marit together.
He loved them both in different ways. But that could not be.
He turned away, and the cycle began again. — Mette Ivie Harrison

The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw.

A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain.

Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you'll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor comes to yell at you,
You're crazier than the weather, Charlie. — Charles Simic

But next time, mind groping me a little more? No one's ever going to believe we're madly passionate about each other with your hands not even grabbing my ass. I mean, seriously. You'll have to do better. — Eve Langlais

In September countless sand and house-martins jazz above the river, taking insects from the surface, from the air, thousands of birds kissing the river farewell. They creak, a sound like the air rubbing against itself. Summer is everything they know; they're preparing themselves, sensing in the shortening days a door they must dash through before it shuts. — Kathleen Jamie