Esbo Os Quotes & Sayings

Craw didn't just grunt - he made sounds like barnyard animals going to bed at night. The more frustrated and/or inarticulate he felt, the bigger the animal. This particular grunt sounded like a constipated cow. — Amy Lane

I remember I heard it in an interview with Michael Jackson one day, saying the art is gone, everybody makes records just to make a record. See, I always want the artist that try to build a whole body of music on one album, so you can enjoy it. So you could say, 'I went with him here, I went with him here.' — Raekwon

It seems to me impossible for a civilized man to love or worship, or respect the God of the Old Testament. A really civilized man, a really civilized woman, must hold such a God in abhorrence and contempt. — Robert Green Ingersoll

Without patience and the skill of a craftsman, even the greatest talent is wasted. — Orhan Pamuk

Your words become the mirror in which others see themselves. — Sharon Jaynes

Purple's my favorite color. — Danielle Panabaker

Our own interests are still an exquisite means for dazzling our eyes agreeably. — Blaise Pascal

The worst of my actions or conditions seem not so ugly unto me as I find it both ugly and base not to dare to avouch for them. — Michel De Montaigne

Before the Civil War, Canada was at the top of the underground railroad. If you made it into Canada, you were safe unless someone came and hauled you back. That was also true during the Vietnam War for draft resisters. — Margaret Atwood

Trust no one at your back unless you want them to bury a knife in it.' (Syn) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Not facing the growth that we have to face always leads to further suffering - and the further suffering is usually progressively worse. — Anonymous

Freedom of conscience is the core of all freedom — Pope Benedict XVI

When we locked eyes, the ease of his stare and the welcome of a smile made me feel like one of two fixed points in a hurricane. The building could have crashed down around us as he smiled, and I wouldn't have noticed. — Rachel M. Wilson

Gat was my love,my first and only.How could I let him go?
He was a person who couldn't fake a smile but smiled often.He wrapped my wrists in white gauze and believed wounds needed attention.He wrote on his hand and asked me my thoughts.His mind was restless,relentless.He didn't believe in God anymore and yet he still wished that God would help him. — E. Lockhart

Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day. — Virginia Woolf