Freneau On The Emigration Quotes & Sayings

Long Beach is the best. I tell everyone that. — Mario Andretti

A child should never even think about being a "good son." A parent decides that fate for the child. The parent encourages that. Not the child himself. And the "perfect dad"? I shudder at thinking what that may be. — Bret Easton Ellis

We are the archers with the bows that spring our children forward. Life does not go backward, nor does it tarry in yesterday. It is not a circle, but an arrow. It flies forward with the great express of Love. — David Paul Kirkpatrick

But tears are an indulgence. Memory sings. — May Sarton

I earned those scars. I'm keeping them. — Aimee Carter

Grabbing her close to him, he spun her around and pushed her against the wall. They needed something solid to keep them steady, because he didn't see himself giving up those lips any time soon. He would kiss her until she lost her breath and it was only his lips on hers that kept her upright. Only the kiss that kept her breathing. — Arielle Hudson

No reference is truly direct - every reference depends on SOME kind of coding scheme. It's just a question of how implicit it is. — Douglas Hofstadter

Watch it, loincloth, I'm not afraid to spork your eyes out. — Magan Vernon

I'm not a stunt man. I'm not a dare devil ... I'm an explorer. — Evel Knievel

I don't worry too much about the script, I just ad lib, like Pearl Bailey. — Mahalia Jackson

We are similar to a museum. My function is to present old masterpieces in modern frames. — Rudolf Bing

After the USA, Germany today is once more the leading steel producing country in the world. — Adolf Hitler

I can write absolutely anywhere. All I need is a laptop. — Joanne Harris

Can I dwell on what I scarce remember? I held a castle on the Marches once, and there was a woman I was pledged to marry, but I could not find that castle today, nor tell you the color of that woman's hair. Who knighted me, old friend? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest. Are you my mother, Thoros? — George R R Martin