Iegse Quotes & Sayings

Even a true artist does not always produce art. — Carroll O'Connor

If I could only remember that the days were, not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart. — Edmund Wilson

I find it weird the way people get so excited about celebrity. If my friends are on the phone, their friends will say: 'Is that kid from 'Love Actually' there?' And the phone gets passed round and I have to speak to this stranger asking: 'Are you famous?' I don't know how to answer. — Thomas Sangster

I'm a reader, so when I go to bookstores I need (stuff) that's going to help me. There a big emptiness there and I want to help fill that through song. — Nas

In St. Louis they had made a sort of game of it, trying to pretty her up. Everything looked wrong. Just pretend you're pretty. — Marilynne Robinson

I always took a great deal of pride in being original. — Roger Miller

They say the first of my kind was Alasdair, a human raised by hawks. She learned the languages of birds and was gifted with their form. — Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

The feeling that I've done something wrong, that I really don't know what it is, that there's something terribly wrong with my very being, leads to a sense of utter hopelessness. This hopelessness is the deepest cut of the mystified state. It means there is no possibility for me as I am; there is no way I can matter or be worthy of anyone's love as long as I remain myself. I must find a way to be someone else--someone who is lovable. Someone who is not me. — Bell Hooks

We?' said Chancellor.

'I am lavishly paid,' Danny said, 'to think in the first person plural. — Dorothy Dunnett

Blink at the sunned scratch
and stumble into silence
pg. 55// A Coney Island of the Mind — Lawrence Ferlinghetti

If you want me . . . you've got me. — Alexandra Adornetto

The moon was beginning to rise when they set out, and a good thing, too, Brianna thought. Even with the big, lopsided gold orb sailing up out of a cradle of stars and shedding its borrowed radiance over the sky, the trail beneath their feet was invisible. So were their feet, drowned in the absolute black of the forest at night. — Diana Gabaldon