Gawyn Quotes & Sayings

Tomorrow is not a promise.
Tomorrow is a second chance. — J.R. Rim

New Wave art was the rage of the eighties. Now it's exhibited in oldies-but-goodies museums, usually in black-and-pink frames. — Brad Holland

Six million Jews died in the Holocaust. Yet many people simply cannot accept this. They keep bringing up red herring after red herring to avoid finally admitting "YES, it happened exactly as the history books say, end of story." Which, of course, is the only correct response to the question anti-Semites raise about whether or not this historically and forensically-proven Nazi genocide even happened. — James Morcan

She was afraid she'd have no hope at all of recognizing the drop without the wagon and boxes there. She would have to get Gawyn to show it to her, — Connie Willis

The space industry is developing and delivering benefits that tie into our immediate needs and priorities here on Earth-for example, medical and materials research, and satellite communications. — Marc Garneau

The peculiar interest of magic squares and all lusus numerorum in general lies in the fact that they possess the charm of mystery. They appear to betray some hidden intelligence which by a preconceived plan produces the impression of intentional design, a phenomenon which finds its close analogue in nature. — Paul Carus

We think that some ties are so strong that they can withstand anything, but it's not true. When trust is broken, weariness sets in. Then poor choices, the deceptive lure of seduction and sorry twists of fate, all conspire to kill off love. In this type of unusual contest, the chances of winning are slim, more the exception than the rule. — Guillaume Musso

I mean I certainly like when I'm like talking to people I'm like what did you think, what did you think, what did you think? You know that's always in the back of my head. — Nicholas Stoller

Stop sucking your finger," Gawyn said with a grin. "We know you are a pretty little girl; you do not need to prove it to us. — Robert Jordan

Kneeling on St. Mary's stone floor she had envisioned the candles and the cold, but not Lady Imeyne, waiting for Roche to make a mistake in the mass, not Eliwys or Gawyn or Rosemund. Not Father Roche, with his cutthroat's face and worn-out hose.

She could never in a hundred years, in seven hundred and thirty-four years, have imagined Agnes, with her puppy and her naughty tantrums, and her infected knee. I'm glad I came, she thought. In spite of everything. — Connie Willis