Lagniappe Quotes & Sayings

In the long run managements stressing accounting appearance over economic substance usually achieve little of either. — Warren Buffett

Art can only progress towards its own self-annihilation. — Richard Appignanesi

Even as a little seed, I could see his plan for me. Stranded on welfare, another broken family. — Tupac Shakur

I would say that grace is startling," Jean told me as he began retelling the story of how he wound up as pastor of Lagniappe Presbyterian Church, a growing congregation that meets in a glorified metal hangar in Bay St. Louis. "It's just startling. It isn't supposed to work. This wasn't supposed to work. — Cathleen Falsani

When you are invited to drink, and this does occur now and then in New Orleans - and you say, 'What, again? - no, I've had enough;' the other party says, 'But just this one time more - this is for lagniappe.' When the beau perceives that he is stacking his compliments a trifle too high, and sees by the young lady's countenance that the edifice would have been better with the top compliment left off, he puts his 'I beg pardon - no harm intended,' into the briefer form of 'Oh, that's for lagniappe.' If the waiter in the restaurant stumbles and spills a gill of coffee down the back of your neck, he says 'For lagniappe, sah,' and gets you another cup without extra charge. — Mark Twain

To abjure the notion of the truly human is to abjure the attempt to divinize the self as a replacement for a divinized world. — Richard Rorty

There is the right way and a million other ways. Eliminating the other options prevents limiting your results. — Kyle Barger

There would have been a lake. There would have been an arbor in flame-flower. There would have been nature studies - a tiger pursuing a bird of paradise, a choking snake sheathing whole the flayed trunk of a shoat. There would have been a sultan, his face expressing great agony (belied, as it were, by his molding caress), helping a callypygean slave child to climb a column of onyx. There would have been those luminous globules of gonadal glow that travel up the opalescent sides of juke boxes. There would have been all kinds of camp activities on the part of the intermediate group, Canoeing, Coranting, Combing Curls in the lakeside sun. There would have been poplars, apples, a suburban Sunday. There would have been a fire opal dissolving within a ripple-ringed pool, a last throb, a last dab of color stinging red, smarting pink, a sigh, a wincing child. — Vladimir Nabokov