Dyslexics Rock Quotes & Sayings

Someone who doesn't know if tomorrow will come would rather live every day twice than live it once. — Shannon A. Thompson

Maybe if the right person floats into your life, you have to jump in with both feet and try to make it work before the tide turns. — Claire Cook

And what then? One night, a fever, a pleurisy, or an inflammation of the lungs, snatches away this man from the midst of men, stripped in a moment of all his stage accessories, and all this, his glory, is proved a mere dream. Therefore the Prophet has compared human glory to the weakest flower. 3. — Basil The Great

I hope that I will be able to work all of my life - even when I am older. It's easier to do that in Europe than in America, because in America it is difficult for older actresses to find work. — Penelope Cruz

kisses will blossom on the pillows,
and sheets will rise over bodies
entangled like vines
nocturnal and perfumed. — Miguel Hernandez

The way the kids of immigrants heard about America, you would think it was not down the stairs and out the door but still across the ocean, a distant place where everything is promised and, for hard work, everything is given. From the day he left his parents' house, Abe [Reles] had to know his father was right, that America promises everything, but he also had to know his father was wrong--America gives nothing. Those things that are promised, they cannot be worked for but must be taken, conned away with good looks, obsequiousness, mimicry; or traded for with bit of your soul or the morals of the stories your parents told; or tricked away with lies; or wrested away with brute force. — Rich Cohen

"Write that down," the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence. — Lewis Carroll

Mine," he whispers.
"Yours," I breathe. — E.L. James

If only
it were possible to juicily belch up the life
one's lived, chew it anew and gulp it down,
and then once more to roll it with a fat,
ox-like tongue, to squeeze from its eternal
dregs the former sweetness of crisp grass,
drunk with the morning dew and the bitterness
of lilac leaves! — Vladimir Nabokov