Leeuwenbekje Quotes & Sayings

Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection. — Brene Brown

George Orwell is half journalist, half fiction writer. I'm 100 percent fiction writer ... I don't want to write messages. I want to write good stories. I think of myself as a political person, but I don't state my political messages to anybody. — Haruki Murakami

I dislike what has happened to the quality of the sound of music; there is little depth or feeling left, and people can't get what they need from listening to music anymore, so it is dying. — Neil Young

[Introverts,] the world needs you and it needs the things you carry. So I wish you the best of all possible journeys and the courage to speak softly. — Susan Cain

Play around. Dive into absurdity and write. Take chances. You will succeed if you are fearless of failure. — Natalie Goldberg

You can't wake up looking for the recession. — Jenifer Lewis

I'll still love you," I said softly. "I'll still love you in a week, in a month, and in three years. I'll still love you for the rest of my life. You did that to me, and you can't change it. No matter where you go or what you do, I will still love you. — Kate Stewart

He knew why he and the other children received ice cream only when newspaper photographers came to visit, and why food and clothing donated for the children got furtively resold outside the orphanage gate. — Katherine Boo

No," Hal said. "The sea is moving constantly and you have to make little adjustments to keep it going smoothly. You can't take it for granted."
"Just like a friendship," she said smiling. And Hal nodded.
"Maybe that's why the word ends in ship," he said. — John Flanagan

There is no such thing as destruction in this world. Eternal Thing [vastu] is not destroyed, its phase state (avastha) is destroyed. — Dada Bhagwan

It was towards the end of February, in that year, and a bitter black frost had lasted for many weeks. The keen east wind had long since swept the streets clean, though in a gusty day the dust would rise like pounded ice, and make people's faces quite smart with the cold force with which it blew against them. Houses, sky, people, and everything looked as if a gigantic brush had washed them all over with a dark shade of Indian ink. — Elizabeth Gaskell