Hoffbauer Theodor Quotes & Sayings

The bitterest of ironies is that the people who make us feel the most accepted, secure, and whole are the same people who make us feel the most rejected, unstable, and heart broken. — Gume Laurel III

Life is real, and you canot live a lie. — Andrew-Knox B Kaniki

THE HOST is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away — W.B.Yeats

I expect that everything I do will be not watched or not seen. That way, I'm never disappointed when I become flooded with that reality. — Ron Perlman

No matter how many good deeds we preform, they aren't the ticket to earning God's favor. God graces us in spite of what we do in this life, not because of. — Bill Courtney

Life does not accommodate you, it shatters you. Love is mean, but it's good. It keeps us alive. — Tarryn Fisher

I've been to Vulcan where I've been vulcanized, Carbon where you get carbonated and Standard where you get standardized. Ernie Isley's invited me to Castor ... and I'm not looking forward to it. — Ralph Klein

You can put it another way, of course; you always can. — Julian Barnes

Nothing happened for a whole day. Then, in a little hollow on the edge of the brooding hill, a few grains of sand shifted and left a tiny hole.

Something emerged. Something invisible. Something joyful and selfish and marvellous. Something as intangible as an idea, which is exactly what it was. A wild idea.

It was old in a way not measurable by any calendar known to Man and what it had, right now, was memories and needs. It remembered life, in other times and other universes. It needed people.

It rose against the stars, changing shape, coiling like smoke.

There were lights on the horizon.

It liked lights.

It regarded them for a few seconds and then, like an invisible arrow, extended itself towards the city and sped away.

It liked action, too . . . — Terry Pratchett

I escaped to New York, and then L.A., but when I dream of home, I still dream of my old house in Holmdel. — Lorene Scafaria

Literary modernism kind of grew out of a sense that, "Oh my god! I'm telling a story! Oh, that can't be the case, because I'm a clever person. I'm a literary person! What am I going to do to distinguish myself? I know! I'll write Ulysses." — Philip Pullman