Formamos Conjuntos Quotes & Sayings

Farce is a much-maligned form. It's easy to do badly, and therefore, audiences may have a negative feeling about it. — Mark Linn-Baker

I like characters who are changed, often for the better, by the dark nature of their experiences. I also can become engaged by a character for whom I wish to see justice done, one way or the other. In general, I require a book to have some sort of moral center. — Thomas H. Cook

If no one among us is capable of governing himself, then who among us has the capcity to govern someone else. — Ronald Reagan

At night, every living thing competes for a chance to be heard. The crickets and frogs call out. Sometimes, there's the soft who-whoo of an owl lost amid the pines. Even the dogs won't rest until they've howled at the moon. But the crickets always win, long after the frogs stop croaking and the owl has found its way home. Long after the dogs have lain down losing the battle against sleep, the crickets keep going as though they know their song is our lullaby. — Jacqueline Woodson

The past is a blur, like fog only blurrier. — Darynda Jones

It's not easy to be optimistic and hopeful after you come to know and love some of the young victims of sexual abuse, violence, poverty, neglect, drugs, and rape. It's taking me a while to climb out of this hatred, this noxious cynicism. I'm doing my best. — M.T. Johnson

Books were everywhere in their large apartment. Histories, biographies, novels, studies on Quebec antiques, poetry. Placed in orderly bookcases. Just about every table had at least one book on it, and oftern several magazines. And the weekend newspapers were scattered on the coffee table in the living room, in front of the fireplace. If a visitor was the observant type, and made it further into the apartment to Gamache's study, he might see the story the books in there told. — Louise Penny

Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold
Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying
Gold at the uttermost circles fading Into the tenderest hint of jade, Or fusing in tremulous twilight blues, Robing the far-flung offices, Scintillant-storied, forking flame, Or soaring to luminous amethyst Over the steeples aureoled. — Lola Ridge

Whenever there's something I don't like about a stranger, I try to imagine that someone out there loves them, and it puts them in a different light. — Lauren DeStefano

It was supposed to be people who died and cultures that lasted. Now it was the other way around. — Hugh Howey