Humors Theory Quotes & Sayings

Why do you insist on calling me Jocelyn?" I made sure my tone wasn't argumentative, just curious. Because I was curious.
His lips touched mine, soft, gentle, and he pulled back, those pale blue eyes of his bright with heat. "Joss is a girl's name. Possibly a tomboy's name." He smirked. "Jocelyn, on the other hand, is a woman's name. A really sexy woman's name." He pulled back."So strip Jocelyn."
Okay. He could call me Jocelyn. — Samantha Young

A flower blooms because she dreams and desires to do so. Nothing happens without a dream. — Debasish Mridha

We just can't let the Lord down. And if the day comes when we are the only women on earth who find nobility and divinity in motherhood, so be it. For mother is the word that will define a righteous woman made perfect in the highest degree of the celestial kingdom, a woman who has qualified for eternal increase in posterity, wisdom, joy, and influence. — Sheri L. Dew

I would not have voluntarily let go, but I was caught off guard by the magnetic force between us. — Nicole Gulla

Nothing like a few restful weeks contemplating the decline of civilization to restore the humors. What I did on my summer vacation was listen to a lot of people talk about the decline of practically everything - you could call it the leisure of the theory class. — Molly Ivins

And it's also clear that what I felt yesterday, that stupid "dissolving in the universe", if you take it to its limit, is death. Because that's exactly what death is-the fullest possible dissolving of myself into the universe. — Yevgeny Zamyatin

They said what they would do, and we did not listen. Then they did what they said they would do. — Frederic C. Rich

When you put on a clown suit and a rubber nose, nobody has any idea what you look like inside. — Stephen King

These and other inanimate things she saw and experienced. They were real to her. She knew them. They were the codes and touchstones of the world, capable of translation and possession. She owned the crack that made her stumble; she owned the clumps of dandelions whose white heads, last fall, she had blown away; whose yellow heads, this fall, she peered into. And owning them made her part of the world, and the world a part of her. — Toni Morrison