Fishable Lakes Quotes & Sayings

Take away grievances from some people and you remove their reasons for living; most of us are nourished by hope, but a considerable minority get psychic nutrition from their resentments, and would waste away purposelessly without them. — Sydney J. Harris

I don't believe virginity is common as it used to be. — Don Williams

It is a monstrous thing to force a child to learn Latin or Greek or mathematics on the ground that they are an indispensable gymnastic for the mental powers. It would be monstrous even if it were true. — George Bernard Shaw

As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder. — Leonard Cohen

Tell me yes," he ordered huskily. "Tell me yes and I'll do whatever you want. Anything you want. Just let me do this. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Much of her life had been lived like a balancing act on a spearpoint fence, and on a particularly difficult night when she was twelve, she had decided that instinct was, in fact, the quiet voice of God. Prayers did receive replies, but you had to listen closely and believe in the answer. At twelve, she wrote in her diary: God doesn't shout; He whispers, and in the whisper is the way. — Dean Koontz

You paid $3,000 dollars for me.
- Money well spent for a woman beyond price. Knowing what I do now, I'd pay a thousand times that amount and consider myself blessed. — Carla Capshaw

I know there are parents who are very structured and organized and are certainly far more together than I am, it's just not me. — Soleil Moon Frye

Superb accuracy in water measurement, Jessica thought. And she noted that the walls of the meter trough held no trace of moisture after the water's passage. The water flowed off those walls without binding tension. She saw a profound clue to Fremen technology in the simple fact: they were perfectionists. — Frank Herbert

The trick is to combine your waking rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of your dreams. Because, if you can do that, you can do anything. — Richard Linklater

Chapter 4,'Organised abuse and the pleasures of disbelief', uses Zizek's (1991) insights into cite political role of enjoyment to analyse the hyperbole and scorn that has characterised the sceptical account of organised and ritualistic abuse. The central argument of this chapter is that organised abuse has come to public attention primarily as a subject of ridicule within the highly partisan writings of journalists, academics and activists aligned with advocacy groups for people accused of sexual abuse. Whilst highlighting the pervasive misrepresentations that characterise these accounts, the chapter also implicates media consumers in the production of ignorance and disdain in relation to organised abuse and women's and children's accounts of sexual abuse more generally. — Michael Salter

I think it's a real gift to be able to say that what's in your life is enough. It seems most of us re always wanting more. — Elizabeth Berg

If it came back I would be thrilled. I would be delighted to write more songs. I need them now because I want to make an album and I have to depend on other people's music, which I've done for years. But still, it'd be really nice to be able to sprinkle it with my own. — Joan Baez

A simple love-story,' said David piously, 'about a girl that loves a man frightfully and he is married, so she goes and lives with him, and then his wife is very ill and going to die, so the girl and the man both offer themselves for blood transfusion in a very noble way without each other knowing. But only one of them has the right kind of blood and I can't decide which. Do you think it would be more pathetic if the girl gave her blood and died, and then the man went off into the desert to be a monk, or if the man died and the wife and the girl made friends over his corpse and both became nuns? One might do good business with that, because in films no one much cares if the hero lives or dies so long as there are plenty of lovely heroines.' 'How — Angela Thirkell

He loved her enough to know she was better off without him — Cassandra Clare