Ibraimo Matumo Quotes & Sayings

Here is how the harmful becomes profitable: That which yesterday was reviled today ends up in Urban Outfitters. The critic Rebecca Solnit has summarized it this way: 'Eat your heart out on a plastic tray,' say the Sex Pistols. Now, we know where to buy the tray and what the heart tastes like. — Josh Kun

Sometimes when you get in a fight with a skunk, you can't tell who started it. — Lloyd Doggett

Coasted up the Adriatic, its shores swimming in an atmosphere of amber, rose, and aquamarine; we lay in wide land-locked harbours, we roamed through ancient and noble cities, — Kenneth Grahame

If you have pendulum clocks on the wall and start them all at different times, after a while the pendulums will all swing in synchronicity. The same thing happens with heart cells in a Petri dish: They start beating in rhythm even when they're not touching one another. — Bruce Lipton

Take the place and attitude to which you see your unquestionable right, and all men acquiesce. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's the duty of artists to volunteer to do particle counting. Don't leave creation up to the accountants. — Maxine Hong Kingston

Art is self expression. If you are expressing someone else's personality, that is not art. — Bennie Wallace

A Centaur has a man-stomach and a horse-stomach. And of course both want breakfast. So first of all he has porridge and pavenders and kidneys and bacon and omlette and cold ham and toast and marmalade and coffee and beer. And after that he tends to the horse part of himself by grazing for an hour or so and finishing up with a hot mash, some oats, and a bag of sugar. That's why it's such a serious thing to ask a Centaur to stay for the weeekend. A very serious thing indeed. — C.S. Lewis

There is a soul of truth in error; there is a soul of good in evil. — Richard Whately

THE ENGLISHMAN'S VERY SHY (FOX-TROT) (Bloat): The Englishman's very shy, He's none of your Ca-sa-no-va, At bowling the ladies o-ver, A-mericans lead the pack - (Tantivy): - You see, your Englishman tends to lack That recklessness transatlantic, That women find so romantic Though frankly I can't see why . . . (Bloat): The polygamous Yank with his girls galore Gives your Brit-ish rake or carouser fits, (Tantivy): Though he's secretly held in re-ve-rent awe As a sort of e-rot-ic Clausewitz. . . . (Together): If only one could al-ly A-merican bedroom know-how With British good looks, then oh how Those lovelies would swoon and sigh, Though you and I know the Englishman's very shy. — Thomas Pynchon

What about your funeral, eh?" She asks. "You mean the one that is never going to happen ever because I am going to gather the seven Dragonballs and wish for eternal life?" She laughs. "Yeah, that one. What'd you want for it?" I muse it over for all of six and a half seconds. "Makeouts. Naked dancing. Maybe a cake. — Sara Wolf

My mother and father, with my newborn brother and me in the backseat of the 1938 Ford sedan that would be our family car for the next decade, moved to that hastily constructed Army ammunition depot called Igloo, on the alkaline and sagebrush landscape of far southwestern South Dakota. I was three years old. — Tom Brokaw