Inez Van Lamsweerde Quotes & Sayings

But joy is individual, and can only be experienced alone. Hell is communal, but Heaven is personal. — Simon Kurt Unsworth

Will this job allow me to spend time on in-character activities like, for example, reading, strategizing, writing, and researching? Will I have a private workspace or be subject to the constant demands of an open office plan? If the job doesn't give me enough restorative niches, will I have enough free time on evenings and weekends to grant them to myself? — Susan Cain

If Poindexter made a comment to me like that, it would have been in the context of once the authorized program is approved there would be no point in having any of these private benefactors any longer. — Robert M. Gates

Fiction and fact: only madmen and magistrates cannot discriminate between them. — Alan Moore

Never yet did there exist a full faith in the Divine Word (by whom light as well as immortality was brought into the world) which did not expand the intellect, while it purified the heart
which did not multiply the aims and objects of the understanding, while it fixed and simplified those of the desires and passions. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

It's here, inside me, and it'll bite off pieces when it can. But I can take it because you're there. Because you know how it feels. You're the only one who really knows. And becasue you love me enough to feel it. When you look at me, and I see that, I can take anything. — J.D. Robb

I had no proof that I had the stuff to be an artist, though I hungered to be one. — Patti Smith

Well do I remember that dark hot little office in the hospital at Begumpett, with the necessary gleam of light coming in from under the eaves of the veranda. I did not allow the punka to be used because it blew about my dissected mosquitoes, which were partly examined without a cover-glass; and the result was that swarms of flies and of 'eye-flies' - minute little insects which try to get into one's ears and eyelids - tormented me at their pleasure — Ronald Ross

And on the endless dusty ribbon of the highway, on sunken roads vaulted over by branches, on paths between stands of grain that rose to his knees, the sun on his shoulders and the morning air in his nostrils, his heart full of the night's bliss, his spirit at peace and his flesh content, he would ride on his way ruminating his happiness, like someone who keeps savoring, hours later, the fragrance of the truffles he has eaten for dinner. — Gustave Flaubert

Every stitch i sew will be a kiss. — Alice Walker