Ingwersens Variety Quotes & Sayings

Thought that was perhaps how some ghosts were made; where a will and a purpose had survived, heedless of the frail flesh that fell by the wayside, unable to sustain life long enough. — Diana Gabaldon

He was a person who thrived on company, who desired camaraderie, even in its lowest, most base form; he felt that just seeing other people, no matter the circumstances, even if the people were enemies, filled you with health, gave you a reason to live — Karan Mahajan

Spray a bug with a toxin and it dies; spray a man, spray his brain, and he becomes an insect that clacks and vibrates about in a closed circle forever. A reflex machine, like an ant. Repeating his last instruction. — Philip K. Dick

There's only one way to tackle life, enjoy a day at the beach, and jump into a Great Lake: Headfirst! — Viola Shipman

Some of the best pop music ever has come out of the States. — Kate Bush

America's last pioneers, urban nomads in search of wide open interior spaces — Cathleen McGuigan

In writing a weird story, I always try very carefully to achieve the right mood and atmosphere and place the emphasis where it belongs. — H.P. Lovecraft

A little later, as we talked of the Maniot dirges by which I was obsessed, I was surprised to hear this bloodshot-eyed and barefoot old man say: "Yes, it's the old iambic tetrameter acalectic." It was the equivalent of a Cornish fisherman pointing out the difference, in practicality incomprehensible dialect, between the Petrachian and the Spenserian sonnet. It was quite correct. Where on earth had he learnt it? His last bit of information was that, in the old days (that wonderful cupboard!) the Arabs used to come to this coast to dive for the murex. — Patrick Leigh Fermor

Governor Romney has a record of tremendous accomplishments. But he never asks for accolades. He just asks, 'How can I help?' That's the mark of a true leader: A humble focus on getting the job done. — Reince Priebus

After that long night in the rain, I'd seemed to grow cold inside, all the illusions gone, all the old ambitions and hopes for myself sucked away into the mud. Over the years, that coldness had never entirely disappeared. There were times in my life when I couldn't feel much, not sadness or pity or passion, and somehow I blamed this place for what I had become, and I blamed it for taking away the person I had once been. For twenty years this field had embodied all the waste that was Vietnam, all the vulgarity and horror. Now, it was just what it was. Flat and dreary and unremarkable. — Tim O'Brien