London And Sons Quotes & Sayings

She was a dirty porn author, and God knows what evil she was harvesting, — Debra Anastasia

Whole realm was his. He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge's sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge's daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the Judge's feet before the roaring library fire; he carried the Judge's grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king, - king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller's — Jack London

The highest God and the innermost God is one God. — Ernest Holmes

For a marriage relationship to flourish, there must be intimacy. It takes an enormous amount of courage to say to your spouse, 'This is me. I'm not proud of it - in fact, I'm a little embarrassed by it - but this is who I am. — Bill Hybels

In the first study, Grant and his colleagues analyzed data from one of the five biggest pizza chains in the United States. They discovered that the weekly profits of the stores managed by extroverts were 16 percent higher than the profits of those led by introverts - but only when the employees were passive types who tended to do their job without exercising initiative. Introverted leaders had the exact opposite results. When they worked with employees who actively tried to improve work procedures, their stores outperformed those led by extroverts by more than 14 percent. — Susan Cain

She has four sons," Nurse Purvis leads me on, "all with a London post code, but they never visit. You'd think old age was a criminal offense, not a destination we're all heading to." I consider airing my theory that our culture's coping strategy towards death is to bury it under consumerism and Sansara, that the Riverside Villas of the world are screens that enable this self-deception, and that the elderly are guilty: guilty of proving to us that our willful myopia about death is exactly that. — David Mitchell

I wish you wouldn't indulge him," said the Prince Regent, whose name was also George (Kell found the Grey London habit of sons taking father's name both redundant and confusing) with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It gets his spirits up."
"Is that a bad thing?" asked Kell.
"For him, yes. He'll be in a frenzy later. Dancing on the tables talking of magic and other Londons. What trick did you do for him this time? Convince him he could fly?"
Kell had only made that mistake once. — Victoria Schwab

You're not done growing. I see you sometimes thinking about shit, and I think you want more than to settle with life. You want to do more, but you're stuck. That's not age. That's a choice. Your life was stale because you settled. — Bijou Hunter

I think I can say without fear of inaccuracy that description is my strong point. Possibly this fact is central to my feeling excluded and so on in what might be called "the scene." There appears to be a particular divide in literature that has "description" and all it implies, as its focus. Some people hate "fancy writing," and just want to "cut to the chase," and so on. This attitude deeply irritates me. If you can't try and take words to their limit in the field of literature, then where can you? I actually think that variety is good, but it's usually the enemies of "fancy writing" who also seem to deplore variety and believe that there's only one way to write - without adverbs etc. etc. — Quentin S. Crisp

We follow One who stood and wept at the grave of Lazarus-not surely, because He was grieved that Mary and Martha wept, and sorrowed for their lack of faith (though some thus interpret) but because death, the punishment of sin, is even more horrible in his eyes than in ours. — C.S. Lewis

WINTER As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night? For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt Mumford & Sons ~Winter Winds — Raine Miller

In all fields black consciousness seeks to talk to the black man in a language that is his own — Steven Biko