Lonsberry Quotes & Sayings

A poem may be an instance of morality, of social conditions, of psychological history; it may instance all its qualities, but never one of them alone, nor any two or three; never less than all. — Allen Tate

Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique. — Karl Shapiro

He needed her so badly, to reassure himself of his
own existence, that he never comprehended the desperation in her dazzling, permanent smile, the terror in the brightness with which she faced the world, or the reasons why she hid when she couldn't manage to beam ... every moment she
spent in the world was full of panic, so she smiled and smiled and maybe once a week she locked the door and shook and felt like a husk, like an empty peanut-shell, a monkey without a nut. — Salman Rushdie

He said he'd heard the sound of one hand clapping. He said, once his mind took in the wondrous no-sound of holy oneness, the empty echo of eternal bliss, he was never the same. He could hear it still, he said, resounding in the ether and tickling the back of his brain.
Something not normal was going on with his brain. No argument there. — Brenda Marie Smith

To lose your temper is only useful once a year. — Colin R. Davis

Get to see how he treats his mother/sister/housekeeper (critical clues as to how he will treat any prospective girlfriend). — Meg Cabot

I've been thinking about this all day," he said between kisses. "All. Day."
Who was she kidding? She'd been harboring this fantasy for weeks. And then in a move that was becoming her 'thing', Alesha leaned back and pulled her sweater over her head and gave Reece a sexy smile. "Was this part of what you were thinking?"
His hands came up and cupped her breasts, his breath ragged, but his eyes were on hers. "This is better. — Samantha Chase

Words of wisdom for every photographer: 'Thinking is more interesting than knowing, but less interesting than looking'. So said Goethe. — Bill Jay

I could understand how such stories of horror can spread, like a wild fire. Such was the nature of rumor. People seemed to love to be frightened especially when, in their heart of hearts, they knew that they were safe. How many truly believed in vampires, I pondered? How many truly believed that they were risking their life by sitting up in the gods to watch a stage performance? — Raymond Buckland