Lantos Ferenc Quotes & Sayings

That was in the past - we're in the future now. — David Beckham

And if the child feels loved, the body is relaxed, the eyes are bright, there is a smile on the face; in some way the flesh becomes "transparent." A child that is loved is beautiful. But what happens when children feel they are not loved? There is tension, fear, loneliness and terrible anguish, which we can call "inner pain," the opposite of "inner peace." Children are too small and weak to be able to fend for themselves; they have no defense mechanisms. If a child feels unloved and unwanted, he or she will develop a broken self-image. I have never heard any of the men or women whom we have welcomed into our community criticize their parents, even though many of them have suffered a great deal from rejection or abandonment in their families. Rather than blaming their parents, they blame themselves. "If I am not loved, it is because I am not lovable, I am no good. I am evil. — Jean Vanier

You taught me what reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played. To-night, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. — Oscar Wilde

You get so used to lying that after a while it's hard to remember what the truth is. — Philip Agee

For many sports fans, the onset of fall only means one thing: It's football season! — Marcus Samuelsson

I think I should be a nightclub singer. I love to sing! — Lesley Nicol

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world. — Gustave Flaubert

That typically English characteristic for which there is no English name -esprit de corps. — F. E. Adcock

Bitting into heads
is much harder than it looks.
The skull is feisty. — Ryan Mecum

And it seemed that my flesh crawled with the gentleness of those glaucous things evoked by the verse. It was as if fingertips, like cut emeralds or fresh olives, were stroking the palm of my hand. — Jean Lorrain