Fiordland Crested Quotes & Sayings

The tragedy of power like mine is that there is no way down. There can only be extinction. Dust to dust; rags to rags; fear to fear. — V.S. Naipaul

And the color in my eyes
has gone back into the sea. — Charles Bukowski

Every predecessor has used mercenaries, often drawn from the country that they're attacking, like England ran India with Indian mercenaries. You take them from one place and send them to kill people in the other place. That's the standard way to run imperial wars. — Noam Chomsky

No child is taught to kill, but he has to be taught to love, respect, honor and value, not only his own life, but the lives of his classmates, parents and teachers. He has to experience love and acceptance. He has to know his life has purpose and meaning. No amount of money can do that. — Cal Thomas

Be content with an ordinary life. — Laozi

Of course we lose them, everyone we try to hold on to, the fates disdain us, make us small, pathetic. When we cry for people we've lost, it's not out of sympathy, because of course we know that they're free from pain at last. But still we cry. We cry because we're alone again. We cry out of self-pity. — Jo Nesbo

With self-assured spirit, the soul is indomitable. — Lailah Gifty Akita

I'm a project manager, not a magician. Magicians have way cooler hats. — Merlin Mann

The tears formed and I fought not to blink, knowing if one tiny wet drop escaped, the battle would be over.
I lost. — Myra McEntire

During these three months I have gone through much; I mean, I have gone through much in myself; and now there are the things I am going to see and go through. There will be much to be written. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

And yet my lexicon develops without logic, in a darting, fleeting manner. The words appear, accompany me for a while, then, often without warning, abandon me. — Jhumpa Lahiri

We try to discover in things, which become precious to us on that account, the reflection of what our soul has projected on to them; we are disillusioned when we find that they are in reality devoid of the charm which they owed, in our minds, to the association of certain ideas. — Marcel Proust