Flauwekul Quotes & Sayings

I mean that man is ruled by a tyrant whose name is Ignorance, and that is the tyrant I sought to overthrow. That is the tyrant which gave birth to monarchy, and monarchy is authority based on falsehood, whereas knowledge is authority based on truth. Man should be ruled by knowledge. — Victor Hugo

What you remembered? Probably. More or less. Different people remember things differently, and you'll not get any two people to remember anything the same, whether they were there or not. You stand two of you lot next to each other, and you could be continents away for all it means anything. — Neil Gaiman

In the twenty-first century, building resilience is one of our most urgent social and economic issues because we live in a world that is defined by disruption. Not a month goes by that we don't see some kind of disturbance to the normal flow of life — Judith Rodin

The best way of avoiding mistakes is doing nothing — Thabiso Monkoe

That's the danger of genius. One way or another, it's going to destroy the world. — Mira Grant

To be a photographer you must have something to say about the world. — Paul Strand

But the one thing Fin had learned from his years in the police was that however much you believed you had them figured out, people invariably surprised you. — Peter May

There is something much better than sitting on an empty chair and that is to watch it and to let it to inspire you to think deeply! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

The problem with an autobiography is that all these extra factors make it difficult. You don't want to hurt people's feelings. You don't know how much you can trust your memory. You don't want it to be self-serving. And you have all these issues about how to present yourself. All these factors make it harder to do than a novel. — Richard Hell

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give. — Sylvia Plath

It was a perfect spring day. The air was sweet and gentle and the sky stretched high, an intense blue. Harold was certain that the last time he had peered through the net drapes of Fossebridge Road (his home), the trees and hedges were dark bones and spindles against the skyline; yet now that he was out, and on his feet, it was as if everywhere he looked, the fields, gardens, trees, and hedgerows and exploded with growth. A canopy of sticky young leaves clung to the branches above him. There were startling yellow clouds of forsythia, trails of purple aubrietia; a young willow shook in a fountain of silver. The first of the potato shoots fingered through the soil, and already tiny buds hung from the gooseberry and currant shrubs like the earrings Maureen used to wear. The abundance of new life was enough to make him giddy. — Rachel Joyce