Frankson Matthew Quotes & Sayings

Terry cooked for me, but I resented having to do dishes. As I saw it, Terry liked cooking-he enjoyed it, he told me so. Well, I didn't enjoy washing dishes- I hated it, and I'd told him so-and didn't see why I should have to do something I hated after he got to do something he liked. I mean, that wasn't fair, was it? — Dan Savage

Any Brand that does not bear good fruit, will fade away and die! — Bernard Kelvin Clive

The blessing of a tragedy is that it puts your life into perspective. — Lisa Papademetriou

It was so different than kissing Dancer. Dancer's kiss was sweet and dreamy and exciting. Ryodan's kiss had razor edges, sharp and dangerous as the man. Being in Dancer's arms was like living on the edible planet. Being in Ryodan's was like stepping into the eye of a cyclone. Dancer was easy laughter and a normal future (sans abrupt death). Ryodan was endless challenge and a future that was impossible to imagine.
Dancer accepted me any way I wanted to be without question. Ryodan made me question myself and pushed me to be the most I could be. — Karen Marie Moning

Our job is to give people not what they want, but what we decide they ought to have. — Richard S. Salant

Every act of love brings happiness; there is no act of love which does not bring peace and blessedness as its reaction. — Swami Vivekananda

At times you have to fight really hard to remember it. Fight within your mind's dungeons and bring it out alive before it could have been killed and buried forever by the demons living deep down inside your mind's dungeons. — Avijeet Das

The oversize jar that held Regan's collection of beach glass was stored at the back of his closet, shoved there years ago because, like so much else in the house, it triggered bad memories. But as he pulled it out and carried it downstairs, the edges of his dark mood lifted for the first time all day. The sweet, generous side of Regan's nature would have loved passing on her precious beach stones to Livia, one little girl to another.
As he descended the stairs that his sister had raced up and down a dozen times a day, something brushed past him. Something warm. Invisible. He stopped where he was and shut his eyes, the glass jar cool in his hands, his sister's face vivid in his mind.
Regan smiling at him. A smile that said Be happy. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Hapscomb's Texaco sat on Number 93 just north of Arnette, a pissant four-street burg about 110 miles from Houston. — Stephen King

Emotional exhibitionism is one block away from whoring for attention. — Alice Walsh