Heikki Lunta Quotes & Sayings

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The dancer's trembling heart must bring everything into harmony, from the tips of her shoes to the flutter of her eyelashes, from the ruffles of her dress to the incessant play of her fingers. — Federico Garcia Lorca

It comforts me to think that if we are created beings the thing that created us would have to be greater than us, so much greater, in fact, that we would not be able to understand it. It would have to be greater than the facts of our reality and so it would seem to us, looking out from within our reality that it would contradict reason. But reason itself would suggest it would have to be greater than reality or it would not be reasonable. — Donald Miller

It was bad enough that she'd basically skipped Hanukkah this year, but to spend the last night of the Jewish holiday serenading the birth of Jesus. ... Just. No. — Stephanie Perkins

There can be no stronger claim to a physician's assistance than at the time when death is imminent, a moral judgment implied by the state's own recognition of the legitimacy of medical procedures necessarily hastening the moment of impending death. — David Souter

The truth is that drive is a force of increase — Sunday Adelaja

Pel-i-cans, their beaks hold more than their bellies can. — Kelly Corrigan

A thing of nature.
For every Push, there is a Pull. A consequence. — Brandon Sanderson

IN SHAME AND SORROW CHRISTIANS KEEP IN MEMORY THE JEWISH CITIZENS OF THIS CITY. IN 1933, 4675 JEWS LIVED IN DRESDEN. IN 1945 IT WAS 70. WE WERE SILENT AS THEIR HOUSES OF WORSHIP BLAZED . . . WE DID NOT RECOGNIZE THEM AS OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS. WE ASK FOR FORGIVENESS. — Lauren Belfer

And I'll have you know that if you hurt my son again, if he so much as sighs sadly over his coffee, I will hire a man, a Russian, probably, to hunt you down and rip all that shiny black hair from your head, then break your skinny arms and legs, and set you on fire, and then put you out with a hammer. And should there be children from your beastly rutting, I shall have the Russian man cut them to tiny pieces and feed them to Madame Jacob's dog. because, although he may be only a worthless, simpleminded, libertine artist, Lucien is my favorite, and I will not have him hurt. Do you understand? — Christopher Moore