Finnell Farms Quotes & Sayings

I try to take what voice I have and I give it to those who don't have one at all. — W. Eugene Smith

Each time you write something, part of you grows. You're training your artistic muscles to find your voice. — Pen Densham

In novelas, sometimes you get the most ridiculous situations, but you make the best of it. But novelas are a very special genre. — Genesis Rodriguez

I had looked around. I'd seen all the things she'd spoken of and more besides. I'd seen a bear cub lift its face to the drenching spring rains. And the silver moon of winter, so high and blinding. I'd seen the crimson glory of a stand of sugar maples in autumn and the unspeakable stillness of a mountain lake at dawn. I'd seen them and loved them. But I'd also seen the dark of things. The starved carcasses of winter deer. The driving fury of a blizzard wind. And the gloom that broods under the pines always. Even on the brightest of days. — Jennifer Donnelly

That's what Jesus meant," whispers the ghost of Slothrop's first American ancestor William, "venturing out on the Sea of Galilee. He saw it from the lemming point of view. Without the millions who had plunged and drowned, there could have been no miracle. The successful loner was only the other part of it: the last piece to the jigsaw puzzle, whose shape had already been created by the Preterite, like the last blank space on the table."
"Wait a minute. You people didn't have jigsaw puzzles."
"Aw, shit. — Thomas Pynchon

I told you he'd freak out, she siad. didn't i?
ah, the i told you so, jace said. always a classy move — Cassandra Clare

I don't think there's ever been a moment in history where that, as an artistic message, has played very well, because people in their hearts know that's terrible and a lie. — Adam McKay

No peace was ever won from fate by subterfuge or argument; no peace is ever in store for any of us, but that which we shall win by victory over shame or sin
victory over the sin that oppresses, as well as over that which corrupts. — John Ruskin

A man walks down the street. It's a street in a strange world. Maybe it's the third world. Maybe it's his first time around. He doesn't speak the language. He holds no currency. He is a foreign man. He is surrounded by the sound, sound of cattle in the marketplace, scatterlings and orphanages. He looks around, around he sees angels in the architecture spinning in infinity and he says, "Amen" and "Hallelujah! — Paul Simon