Koeckhofs Quotes & Sayings

Robert, men can love what is beneath them - things unworthy, stained, dishonoured. We women worship when we love; and when we lose our worship, we lose everything. — Oscar Wilde

Men cannot abandon their religious faith without a kind of aberration of intellect and a sort of violent distortion of their true nature; they are invincibly brought back to more pious sentiments. Unbelief is an accident, and faith is the only permanent state of mankind. — Alexis De Tocqueville

The people who watch a movie like 'Wolf of Wall Street' and want to work on Wall Street are exactly the kind of people who shouldn't. — Brad Katsuyama

Okay, so she is crazy. I don't care. I think I love her. — L.J.Smith

A man will fight harder for his interests than for his rights. — Napoleon Bonaparte

Ave! Duci novo, similis duci seneci",' murmured Mr Slant, drily as only a zombie can manage. 'Or, as we used to say at school, "Ave! Bossa nova, similis bossa seneca!"' He gave a little schoolmasterly laugh. He felt at home with dead languages. 'Of course, grammatically that is completely - ' 'And that means . . . ?' said Madam. 'Here comes the new boss, same as the old boss,' muttered Dr Follett. — Terry Pratchett

Exercise is done against one's wishes and maintained only because the alternative is worse. — George A. Sheehan

Only when you are finally able, with the publican, to admit that you are dead will you be able to stop balking at grace. — Robert Farrar Capon

Animals. Let them burn, then. Let the streets be filled with the smell of their sacrifice. Let this place be called racca, ichabod, wormwood.
Flex
And power transformers atop lightpoles bloomed into nacreous purple light, spitting catherine-wheel sparks. High-tension wires fell into the streets in pick-up-sticks tangles ... — Stephen King

Almost everyone thinks they are a good person, but the question you should be asking is, am I good enough to go to Heaven? How would you know? — Candace Cameron Bure

Capital, like capitalism, seems an overrated category. — Ernest Gellner

Lament
For J
Among the small graves a soft shaft of sunlight gently rains
On a memory; etches, as a glittering finger,
Golden corn field hair, ignites eyes sweet as the seas blue plains,
Traces lips pink as Marys carnation tears and lingers
Then is gone. Oh ancient sun above how shall I tell
Of the hearts deep yearnings that the years can never quell? — Alan James Roll