Lentulus Batiatus Quotes & Sayings

Because if you don't have at least one person believing in you, then there's not much reason to give a shit about anything. — Lisa McMann

O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there; To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. — John Greenleaf Whittier

To gain confidence, constant practice is essential. Just as a musician needs to practice regularly to retain his touch, the watercolourist needs to be constantly in touch with the medium. — Robert A. Lovett

22 Give your burdens to the LORD, and he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall. — Anonymous

You know, the purpose of reconciliation is to avoid the filibuster. The filibuster is an effort to talk something to death. — Dick Durbin

...Life happens so hard and fast I sometimes wonder who is me... — Sylvia Plath

Why did God create mankind? Because God likes stories. — Jonathan Sacks

I've been as good as dead since the day I was born. I accepted that a very long time ago. — Elizabeth Morgan

The sky is fucking with me. It's one of those militantly perfect spring days, the kind that seems to be trying just a little too hard, the kind you want to smack in the face, and the sky is bluer than it has any right to be, really, an obnoxious, overbearing blue that implies that staying home is a crime against humanity. Like I've got anywhere to go. The neighborhood is alive with gardeners mowing lawns and trimming hedges, the mechanized hiss of twirling sprinklers and for those just joining us, it's a beautiful day and Hailey is dead and I have nothing to do, nowhere to be. — Jonathan Tropper

Have you ever stood on a sandy beach when the tide is coming in? Felt the waves come up around your feet and suck the sand from under you. That's my life now. With every day, I feel I sink deeper into uncertainty."
p. 628 The Fool to Fitz — Robin Hobb

The night-noises of the metro night: harbor-wind skirling on angled cement, the shush and sheen of overpass traffic, TPs' laughter in interior rooms, the yowl of unresolved cat-life. Horns blatting off in the harbor. Receding sirens. Confused inland gulls' cries. Broken glass from far away. Car horns in gridlock, arguments in languages, more broken glass, running shoes, a woman's either laugh or scream from who can tell how far, coming off the grid. Dogs defending whatever dog-yards they pass by, the sounds of chains and risen hackles. — David Foster Wallace