Fuzzes Quotes & Sayings

No one undertakes research in physics with the intention of winning a prize. It is the joy of discovering something no one knew before. — Stephen Hawking

The artist Paul Klee described drawing a picture as taking a line for a walk. I have borrowed his words to explain my approach to writing; when I write a novel it is like I am taking a thought for a walk. — Aminatta Forna

Hopefully one day Wars will only be fought in movies. And may the best producer win! — Stanley Victor Paskavich

When considering a man's motives, remember you must not measure his wheat with your bushel. He may not be using the same standard at all. — Robin Hobb

O my God, teach me to be generous
to serve you as you deserve to be served
to give without counting the cost
to fight without fear of being wounded
to work without seeking rest
and to spend myself without expecting any reward
but the knowledge that I am doing your holy will.
Amen — Ignatius Of Loyola

Love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss. — Pablo Neruda

The champion makes his own luck. — Earl Blaik

What was a demon but a lost soul, one that had been forced to use his skills to survive. — Alice Hoffman

In our own times, you see, an emperor came to the city of Rome, where there's the temple of an emperor, where there's a fisherman's tomb. And so that pious and Christian emperor, wishing to beg for health, for salvation from the Lord, did not proceed to the temple of a proud emperor, but to the tomb of a fisherman, where he could imitate that fisherman in humility, so that he, being thus approached, might then obtain something from the Lord, which a haughty emperor would be quite unable to earn. — Saint Augustine

We knew that it would soon be over, and so we put it all into a poem, to tell the universe who we were, and why we were here, and what we said and did and thought and dreamed and yearned for. We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable. Then we sent the poem as a pattern of flux, to wait in the heart of a star, beaming out its message in pulses and bursts and fuzzes across the electromagnetic spectrum, until the time when, on worlds a thousand sun systems distant, the pattern would be decoded and read, and it would become a poem once again. — Neil Gaiman