Horchow Christmas Quotes & Sayings

In my case, performance is part of the medium. Sometimes I feel that it's my main medium, and that the presentation of my poems on the page is secondary. — James Arthur

It's about all of us, and the kind of world that we, together, want to live in and share. — Jacqueline Novogratz

And even these ((the common hill fairy, the standard elf of folk-lore) are in danger of being banished into the limbo of forgetfulness by the quite artificial fairy of juvenile literary commerce, with gauzy wing and skirts reminiscent of the ballet. It has always seemed to me extraordinary that literature has been able to create wings where none were before, for our native fairies are as wingless as ourselves. But for such an innovation the Elizabethan poets and playwrights were probably responsible - a topic which we must consider in another chapter. — Lewis Spence

Keep your pants up, gentlemen," she said as she moved to stand in the middle of the half-naked players. "I'll just take a moment of your time, and I'd prefer you not do your synchronized jock-dropping thing. — Rachel Gibson

Alex never killed hares. — Ally Kennen

Grief is a powerful thing, and sometimes, if it's ignored, we can become lost in it. — Emiko Jean

Somehow, the fact that more poor people are on welfare, receiving more generous payments, does not seem to have made this country a nice place to live - not even for the poor on welfare, whose condition seems not noticeably better than when they were poor and off welfare. Something appears to have gone wrong; a liberal and compassionate social policy has bred all sorts of unanticipated and perverse consequences. — Irving Kristol

Sometimes the only way to ever find yourself is to get completely lost. — Kellie Elmore

Those who want to win and lack skill can get someone with skill to help them. I — Jack D. Schwager

But the mysterious and private heart never ceases to beat. Indestructible and immortal, the heart beats on, independent, and beating for me alone ... — Anna Kavan

Memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away — Oscar Wilde