Einfluss Haben Quotes & Sayings

I'm going to miss you while you're gone. — Nicholas Sparks

Common and vulgar people ascribe all ills that they feel to others; people of little wisdom ascribe to themselves; people of much wisdom, to no one. — Epictetus

The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable. — Arthur Rimbaud

Real literature is something much better than a harmless instrument for getting through idle hours. The purpose of great literature is to help us to develop into full human beings. — Russell Kirk

You can't take away something she never fully had. She may have been promised to me, but my heart will never belong to her! — Nicole Gulla

I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit. — Susan Glaspell

Admitting your mistakes makes you humble. But not repeating your mistakes makes you clever. — Sarvesh Jain

One show, I did a benefit for a feminist organziation....So it's all feminsts. Gloria Steinem is sitting right up front. I walked out and said, "Look here, I can't stay around here too long with you broads because I gotta get home and cook my man a nice hot dinner. Plus, he likes his blow job by nine forty-five." I though it was funny. They didn't. They didn't find anything funny. I thought, Oh Lord, I made these women mad. I stepped over the line. I continued. "Ladies, calm down. I'm just joking. He likes a blow job anytime. — Wanda Sykes

It has been said of dreams that they are a 'controlled psychosis,' or, put another way, a psychosis is a dream breaking through during waking hours. — Philip K. Dick

In the midst of silence Lyra stood by Lanre's body and spoke his name. Her voice was a commandment. Her voice was steel and stone. Her voice told him to live again. But Lanre lay motionless and dead"
"In the midst of fear Lyra knelt by Lanre's body and breathed his name. Her voice beckoning. Her voice was love and longing. Her voice called him to live again. But Lanre lay dead and cold."
"In the midst of despair Lyra fell across Lanre's body and wept his name. Her voice was a whisper. Her voice was echo and emptiness. Her voice begged him to live again. But Lanre lay breathless and dead — Patrick Rothfuss

None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before it was time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily: — J.M. Barrie