Lording Taylor Quotes & Sayings

Can't take no pride in that flagpole

and you can stick your fucking STARBUCKS
up your tight middle-
class
arseholes. — Andy Carrington

I've read that Steven Wright's style was born out of genuine nervousness. — Mike Birbiglia

If you're screwing up and people aren't saying anything, that means they have given up. — Jim Graham

The house became full of love. Aureliano expressed it in poetry that had no beginning and no end. He would write it on the harsh pieces of parchment that Melquiades gave him, on the bathroom walls, on the skin of his arms, and in all of it Remedios would appear transfigured: Remedios in the soporific air of two in the afternoon, Remedios in the soft breath of the roses, Remedios in the water-clock secrets of the moths, Remedios in the steaming morning bread, Remedios everywhere and Remedios forever. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

This "manna from heaven" was being squandered because of the laziness and stupidity of the savages who refused to work as harvesters of latex and obliged the planters to go to the tribes and take them by force. Which meant a great loss of time and money for the enterprises. "Well, — Mario Vargas-Llosa

I usually think of art as having a measurable content of nourishment, whether factual or emotional or whatever, and I try to make sure that whatever I do has as much nourishment as I can muster. — Jeffrey Lewis

Don't forget to leave your handprints on the ones you love and your footprints around the neighborhood. — Lisa C. Miller

What God has planned for the Church in this hour is greater than our ability to imagine and pray. — Bill Johnson

My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? — C.S. Lewis

Sand from the Urns
Green as mould is the house of oblivion.
Before each of the blowing gates your beheaded minstrel turns blue.
For you he beats his drum made of moss and of harsh
pubic hair;
With a festering toe in the sand he traces your eyebrow.
Longer he draws it than ever it was, and the red of your
lip.
You fill up the urns here and nourish your heart. — Paul Celan

An autobiography is an obituary in serial form with the last installment missing. — Quentin Crisp

Be a light unto yourself; betake yourselves to no external refuge. Hold fast to the Truth. Look not for refuge to anyone besides yourselves. — Buddha Shakyamuni