Heyduck Pottery Quotes & Sayings

Because I grew up with this naive expectation of people doing right, I get shocked by every little violation. — Dave Eggers

The more I read about feeding times, sleep times and waking-up times, the more inadequate and miserable I felt. — Gail Porter

Our moral frailty is a strange consolation. — Jen Pollock Michel

In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity — Robert Browning

In silence, our senses come alive...
We see the beauty around us more clearly, learn to listen to the language of silence, touch and smell the earth so pure and taste the sweetness of the air we breathe. — Margo Vader

I moved out to Los Angeles a fan of many people, and meeting people I put on a pedestal that just disappointed me. Without fans, this business would not exist, so I try and say that we're all on the same level. — Aaron Paul

The only problem was I needed to use my own group, and things didn't happen until I did. It wasn't a real country sound, what I did. I've listened to it, and I think it was more a west coast rock thing, you know? But it fit. It was country, but it was my own interpretation of country. — Waylon Jennings

Two hermits lived together for many years without a quarrel. One said to the other, "Let's have a quarrel with each other, as other men do." The other answered, "I don't know how a quarrel happens." The first said, "Look here, I put a brick between us, and I say, 'That's mine.' Then you say, 'No, it's mine.' That is how you begin a quarrel." So they put a brick between them and one of them said, "That's mine." The other said, "No, it's mine." He answered, "Yes, it's yours. Take it away." They were unable to argue with each other. — Rowan Williams

Trust hangs somewhere between knowing what your heart longs for and trying to dictate the shape or timing or outcome of your heart's desire. It lies in the willingness to accept the particulars of how and when and where God chooses to intervene. It waits in the cool shade of surrender. — Paula Rinehart

Afternoons, when the fossil sea was warm and motionless, and the wine trees stood stiff in the yard, and the little distant Martian bone town was all enclosed, and no one drifted out their doors, you could see Mr. K himself in his room, reading from a metal book with raised hieroglyphs over which he brushed his hand, as one might play a harp. And from the book, as his fingers stroked, a voice sang, a soft ancient voice, which told tales of when the sea was red steam on the shore and ancient men had carried clouds of metal insects and electric spiders into battle. — Ray Bradbury