Graciella Bouvier Quotes & Sayings

The sign of a Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art. — Oscar Wilde

He would have been half-hanged, taken down alive, castrated, his genitals stuffed in his mouth, his stomach slit open, and his intestines taken out and burnt, and his carcase chopped into four quarters. — John Broadbent

Thanksgiving is the holiday that encompasses all others. All of them, from Martin Luther King Day to Arbor Day to Christmas to Valentine's Day, are in one way or another about being thankful. — Jonathan Safran Foer

I've always just had sort of a dark take on life, I suppose, and hopefully, the music transcends that in a way. — Jenny Lewis

We have found a way to bring to millions of people an art that they can understand, — Thomas Kinkade

Commodified fantasy takes no risks: it invents nothing, but imitates and trivializes. It proceeds by depriving the old stories of their intellectual and ethical complexity, turning their action into violence, their actors to dolls, and their truth-telling to sentimental platitude. — Karen Haber

I am not as smart as you. I'm just smarter than you. Where is my Granola Bar, by the way? — Alankrita Verma

We don't know whether they're going to eat us or elect us for their tribal deities. — Clark Ashton Smith

God made our souls to long for Him, and we are not fully satisfied without His presence in our lives. — Beth Moore

We began to temper Western democracy with what I'd call a social contract. We put in Social Security, graduated income tax, workers' compensation. We developed strong unions to negotiate with business owners so workers got an equitable share of the profits. — John Shelby Spong

Who peed in your cheerios? — Michelle Hodkin

Fucking GUNS are fucking AWESOME and when you SHOOT them at SHIT, they fucking KILL it! — Shamus McCarty

If I cry, it's about the personal loss of a friend or something like that. But when it comes to politics - no, I don't cry. — Nancy Pelosi

It was just regular growing up, of course, the kind everyone does - but it still hurt him, I know, like the memory I have of the time he dropped me off at the train station when I was going back to Chicago. I could see him through the window of the train, but he couldn't see me through the tinted glass.
I waved, trying to get his attention as he walked up and down the platform trying to figure out where I was sitting. From up in the train, he looked so small. If he'd seen me, he would have smiled and waved, but he didn't know I could see him, and the sadness on his face was exposed to me then. He looked lost. He stood there on the platform a long time, even after my train started pulling away, still trying to catch a glimpse of me waving back. — Catherine Chung