Macleish Ars Quotes & Sayings

But our lives were not as they seemed, were they, Sophia? No one's life ever is. — Jean Plaidy

I don't know why people are so down on the Best Western. They have the best sweet potato fries I've ever had. — Carey Mulligan

Whatever was wanted was hallooed for, and the servants hallooed out their excuses from the kitchen. The doors were in constant banging, the stairs were never at rest, nothing was done without a clatter, nobody sat still, and nobody could command attention when they spoke. In a review of the two houses, as they appeared to her before the end of a week, Fanny was tempted to apply to them Dr. Johnson's celebrated judgment as to matrimony and celibacy, and say, that though Mansfield Park might have some pains, Portsmouth could have no pleasures. — Jane Austen

The interesting thing about a song like 'Bulletproof Heart' - it was [originally] called 'Trans Am' - the interesting thing about the amalgamation of that song was that the song also lived within us, like we all got to live with the song and it was around for about a year before we recorded it again, so the song got to really transform, which you don't really get to do. — Mikey Way

In photography one should surely proceed from essence of the object and attempt to represent it with photographic terms alone. — Albert Renger-Patzsch

Something struck me in Africa, in black Africa, where polygamy is legal: the solitary woman is the rule there, from at an extremely young age, and the children are always the mother's responsibility. — Dacia Maraini

What's stopping you then?"
"Apathy and a broken heart," I say. "Both of those will go away eventually, though, and that's when I'll just get up and leave. — Pittacus Lore

Ars Poetica

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -

A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind -

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.

A poem should be equal to:
Not true.

For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea -

A poem should not mean
But be. — Archibald MacLeish

What an ambiance, and such a pity I'm alone: Candles giving off their glow, gusts of wind and the light tapping of rain on the windowpane - a massage for the mind. And a comforting one, too. — Donna Lynn Hope

The orgy of thieving in Iraq has more to do with the character of the people than the absence of restraining troops. And to think that good, decent, law-abiding young British and American men and women laid down their lives to liberate this thieving mob. — Robert Kilroy-Silk

When would you like to go out with me so we can talk about it?" A grin flirts with his lips.
He's got her cornered.
And he knows it.
Janie chuckles, defeated. "You are such a bastard."
"When," he demands. "I promise, all my heart, I'll be your house elf for the rest of my life if I fail to meet you at the appointed date and time." He leans forward. "Promise," he says again. He holds up two fingers.
The bell rings.
They stand up.
She's not answering.
He comes around the table toward her and pushes her gently against the wall. Sinks his lips into hers.
He tastes like spearmint. She can't stop the flipping in her stomach.
He pulls back and touches her cheek, her hair. "When," he whispers. Urgently
She clears her throat and blinks. "A-a-after school works for me," she says. — Lisa McMann

Clearly the Secretary of Defense, my boss, would like nothing better than to get Osama bin Laden and to get ... to ensure the complete defeat of al-Qaida, because we know that al-Qaida is planning operations against the United States even as we speak here. — John Abizaid

Our self-abnegation is thus not for our own sake, but for the sake of others. And thus it is not to mere self-denial that Christ calls us, but specifically to self-sacrifice: not to unselfing ourselves, but to unselfishing ourselves. — Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Of her scorn the maid repented, And the shepherd - of his love. — Anna Letitia Barbauld

I did not like the thing in me which he had been able to seduce. — Christa Wolf

The vampire had to be pretty hard up to come after someone who looked the way she did-like Frankenstein's bride. — Christine Feehan