Klapaleut Quotes & Sayings

For years, a motto often repeated in the Canadian Armed Forces was "Improvise. Adapt. Overcome." This was a fancy way of saying we should make do with whatever tools we were given." p. 119 — Jody Mitic

Unforeseen surprises are the rule in science, not the exception. Remember: Stuff happens. — Leonard Susskind

The United States is not just an old cow that gives more milk the more it's kicked in the flanks. — Dean Rusk

You keep saying that. I'm not sure it means what you think it means. — Steven Gould

Nothing felt as right as pleasing a woman with his littermate beside him. As — Cherise Sinclair

When I come home I actually take off all my clothes, and I wear no clothes until I leave. I eat naked. I do everything completely naked. — Tom Ford

was that he hadn't yet figured out — Louise Penny

Fear God, and offend not the Prince nor his laws, and keep thyself out of the magistrate's claws. — Thomas Tusser

I have a rule: I will not alter the basic history of a real-life character to suit our fictional needs in a big way. — Terence Winter

There is one domain in which untruth is insupportable, that field of the human soul's endeavor of which Truth is the very substance and being, - religion — Alvin Boyd Kuhn

Love isn't a prize given on merit, or something to be taken back when there's a mistake. It's a gift, as much for the giver as the one who's given it. — Nora Roberts

Belgium! name unromantic and unpoetic, yet name that whenever uttered has in my ear a sound, in my heart an echo, such as no other assemblage of syllables, however sweet or classic, can produce. Belgium! I repeat the word, now as I sit alone near midnight. It stirs my world of the past like a summons to resurrection; the graves unclose, the dead are raised; thoughts, feelings, memories that slept, are seen by me ascending from the clods
haloed most of them
but while I gaze on their vapoury forms, and strive to ascertain definitely their outline, the sound which wakened them dies, and they sink, each and all, like a light wreath of mist, absorbed in the mould, recalled to urns, resealed in monuments. — Charlotte Bronte