Gwenda Deacon Quotes & Sayings

That plans, however well-intentioned, were ultimately irrelevant? That we had to learn to adapt, and the best-case scenario was finding a partner who was willing to adapt alongside us? — Chloe Neill

When you set out in the world to help yourself,sometimes you end up helping Tutti. — Elizabeth Gilbert

I tend to get cast as a certain type of quiet, almost introverted person who's strong on the inside, but the characters are so very different I don't see it as any kind of typecasting. — Kelly Macdonald

Healing is a different type of pain. It's the pain of becoming aware of the power of one's strength and weakness, of one's capacity to love or do damage to oneself and to others, and of how the most challenging person to control in life is ultimately yourself. — Caroline Myss

Do not think that you can fight corruption without while you let corruption fester within. — Lyman Abbott

We have this obsession with broken homes. Everyone wants to find a problem with it, but not me. I had great homes. Both my parents remarried and I got more people to learn from! — J. J. Field

Outcasts of war, misfits, rebellious souls,Seekers of some vague kingdom in the stars -They hide out in the hills and stir up trouble,Call themselves prophets, too, and prophesyThat something new is coming to the world,The Lord knows what!Well, it's a long time coming,And, meanwhile, we're the wheat between the stones. — Stephen Vincent Benet

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