Jargons Of A Doctor Quotes & Sayings

Writing, overall, has never been what I'd call fun. It's fulfilling. It doesn't come real easy for me. — Iris Dement

Dr. Breed keeps telling me the main thing with Dr. Hoenikker was truth."
"You don't seem to agree."
"I don't know whether I agree or not. I just have trouble understanding
how truth, all by itself, could be enough for a person. — Kurt Vonnegut

Home is the nicest word there is. — Laura Ingalls Wilder

I don't always believe in God, but, I believe something is amiss. — Angel M.B. Chadwick

God loves each of us as if there were only one of us. — Saint Augustine

I'm interested in the spirits of people. In the theatre, there's the acting part of acting - and I'm not saying that can't be great - and there's the essence. To explore that essence, you need a key, a look, a gesture, an insight that unlocks the person's soul. — Ralph Fiennes

I want to do good, and I want people to be happy, and sometimes when you're a people pleaser, you spread yourself too thin. — Tika Sumpter

Redditch: Christ, I hadn't even expected to be here. I was only standing in Redditch 'cause I was told it was a no-hoper. They bloody-well lied. Needles everywhere, you know that? Half the world's needles, made in sodding..

I was holding out for Cheam, or Chester. A 'ch' place, a nice little English 'ch' place. Not 'Redditch', listen to that. It's not a name, it's a fucking noise. What is it, 'Redditch'? Sounds like a frog vomiting.

And they told me it was Worcestershire, another lie!

Atkins: It is Worcestershire.

Redditch: Oh Humphrey, it's Birmingham. Everyone knows it is, listen to the sodding accent. I imagined meadows and steeples and farmyards and haystacks. Well, do you know what, shall I tell you something? You can't find a haystack in Redditch cause of all the fucking needles! — James Graham

If I manage to get seven hours' sleep, I'm a pretty good parent. — Ed Stoppard

Mr False Pretence, you don't make sense
I just don't know you
But you make me cry, where's my kiss goodbye
I think I love you — Amy Winehouse

That room was full to the brim of something beautiful,...Its name was Happiness. — Dorothy Canfield Fisher

4 December. To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility. — Franz Kafka