Embellishments For Crafts Quotes & Sayings

You had to endure something yourself before it touched you. — Daphne Du Maurier

Wise men say, and not without reason, that whosoever wished to foresee the future might consult the past. — Niccolo Machiavelli

Even the worst of men was someone else's brother, child, parent, lover. — Taylor Stevens

After everything that happened, how could I miss him? But I did, I did. — Sarah Dessen

Trust that the thing in life that excites you the most comes complete with all the tools necessary to support you in the doing of that thing. It is automatic; it is built in. All you need to do is act on the opportunities that doing that situation brings to you. — Bashar Al-Assad

I should like to know which is worse: to be ravished a hundred times by pirates, and have a buttock cut off, and run the gauntlet of the Bulgarians, and be flogged and hanged in an auto-da-fe, and be dissected, and have to row in a galley
in short, to undergo all the miseries we have each of us suffered
or simply to sit here and do nothing?'
That is a hard question,' said Candide. — Voltaire

Love me for who I am. — Lailah Gifty Akita

Every unfulfilled aspiration of humanity in the past; all partial representation of perfect character; all sacrifices, nay, even those of idolatry, point to the fulfillment of what want, the answer to every longing
the type of perfect humanity, the Lord Jesus Christ. — Frederick William Robertson

From our earliest beginnings, we have been a nation obsessed with sex, titillated by it at the same time that we fear it, elaborating rules to contain it at the same time that we violate them. — Lillian B. Rubin

At eighteen, she already looks like a woman of sorrows and as her breaths start becoming shorter, tired of looking over her shoulder, she only wants to get away from this city where no one can fathom her love- boundless and profane and real, like her skin and her lips and the insides of her thighs. She knows she can smile, smell like the others. Her skin would bleed too if pricked and yet this reality does not belong to the ones sleeping on the platform floor; this reality is hers and her alone. Thus when she puts the mirror back, she rummages in her handbag, searching for that thing called identity: some of it lost somewhere in the railway colony she had just left behind, some in Sudhanshu's left jacket pocket, the rest of it scattered here around broken teacups on railings, totally aberrant and arbitrary. — Kunal Sen