Marostica Quotes & Sayings

We cannot abandon this rabbit hole for fear of a traumatic encounter with our own culture. — Elif Shafak

I'd enjoy it if a guy grabbed my ass. I guess it all depends on how he grabbed it, too. — Gerard Way

The 1860 election became a referendum on the southern way of life. — Bruce Catton

For a moment, I thought of the word happy and it was a word that just, well, it felt like it was visiting me. I knew it wouldn't last for very long and I'd be sad again and then it would be worse because it's one thing to be sad and it's another thing to be sad once you've been happy. Being sad after you've been happy is the worst thing in the world. — Benjamin Alire Saenz

My love grows wide and shallow in an effort to spread my losses. — Mason Cooley

to fill that gap. The habit of judging ourselves is what pounds us into the ground. You're — Ruby Wax

This perplexing consequence came fully to light as soon as equality was no longer seen in terms of an omnipotent being like God or an unavoidable common destiny like death. Whenever equality becomes a mundane fact in itself, without any gauge by which it may be measured or explained, then there is one chance in a hundred that it will be recognized simply as a working principle of a political organization in which otherwise unequal people have equal rights; there are ninety-nine chances that it will be mistaken for an innate quality of every individual, who is "normal" if he is like everybody else and "abnormal" if he happens to be different. This perversion of equality from a political into a social concept is all the more dangerous when a society leaves but little space for special groups and individuals, for then their differences become all the more conspicuous. — Hannah Arendt

Need is not love. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

How good it had felt to be chosen by him, even in the midst of her horror at what was about to happen, at his discovering she was an imposter. It was like being in his arms after he rescued her from falling off the balcony, his fine woolen tunic against her cheek. So much heaven . . . but it could never be. Not for her. She was Avelina the servant, not Dorothea the earl's daughter. Dear heavenly saints. How she wanted him to love her, wanted his love. The pain was so great she doubled over. Lady — Melanie Dickerson