Halikiopoulos Ophthalmology Quotes & Sayings

I needed to stay in the character. — Michael Pitt

I know the rules. I've been living here longer than you have."
He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. "Hardly."
"Born and raised. You're a transplant." I nudge him again, a little harder, and he laughs and tries to catch hold of my arm. I squirm away, giggling, and he stretches out to tickle my stomach. "Country bumpkin!" I squeal, as he grabs out and wrestles me back onto the blanket, laughing.
"City slicker," he says, rolling over on top of me, and then kisses me. Everything dissolves: heat, explosions of color, floating. — Lauren Oliver

In my career quite a few people have tried to force me out, but so far no one has succeeded. — Ferdinand Piech

Everything is a meaningless struggle against nothing and when people say that the world has become a better place that is a false development-optimism. Nothing exists which ever becomes better. Everything stays the same. Somehow, there is nothing. That is so sad. Nothing to come to. Everything is an illusion. A very sweet illusion. — Odd Nerdrum

If President Nixon's secretary, Rosemary Woods, had been Moses' secretary, there would only be eight commandments. — Art Buchwald

Men don't traipse. We... Swagger — Jodi Picoult

As more and more people recognize the level of violence involved and the consequences of CTE [chronic traumatic encephelopathy, a degenerative brain disorder], they're obviously going to say "We don't want this to be a part of culture." And they overlook the fact that there's a huge swath of the populace where physicality is still a real common thing. — Chuck Klosterman

My brain is like a water faucet that I can turn on or off. Only now there is no off and the water of thoughts just flows. — Francisco X Stork

Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to daze, iron to bind. — Robert Jordan

Becky walked to the sea late in the day, trod barefoot among the tumbled blocks of stone that lined the foreshore, smelling the old harsh smell of salt, hearing the water slap and chuckle while from high above came the endless sinister trickling of the cliffs. Into her consciousness stole, maybe for the first time, the sense of loneliness; an oppression born of the gentle miles of summer water, the tall blackness of the headlands, the fingers of the stone ledges pushing out into the sea. — Keith Roberts

A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose. — Samuel McChord Crothers