Mausner Daniel Quotes & Sayings

There is a line from the Marina Tsvetaeva poem I'm so fond of: "In this most Christian of worlds/ All poets are Jews." What she means is that writers and artists are outside the normal flow of daily life, the normal flow of society in general. — Paul Auster

Anger and folly walk cheek by sole. — Benjamin Franklin

We tend to buy things - a lot of things - where we don't know exactly what will happen, but the outcome will be decent. — Charlie Munger

It's unbelievable what one squadron of twelve aircraft did to tip the balance. — Adolf Galland

Nobody is more worthy of love in the entire universe than you. I wish I had reminded myself of that more. — James Altucher

That's why for Zakk Wylde's Black Label Society the colors are black and white. There are no gray issues. Life is black and it's white. There's no in-between. — Zakk Wylde

And so every one of us in the FBI, I don't care if it's a file clerk someplace or an agent there or a computer specialist, understands that our main mission is to protect the public from another September 11, another terrorist attack. — Robert Mueller

Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine
That lights the pathway but one step ahead
Across a void of mystery and dread. — George Santayana

One might fancy that day, the London day, was just beginning. Like a woman who had slipped off her print dress and white apron to array herself in blue and pearls, the day changed, put off stuff, took gauze, changed to evening, and with the same sigh of exhilaration that a woman breathes, tumbling petticoats on the floor, it too shed dust, heat, colour; the traffic thinned; motor cars, tinkling, darting, succeeded the lumber of vans; and here and there among the thick foliage of the squares an intense light hung. I resign, the evening seemed to say, as it paled and faded above the battlements and prominences, moulded, pointed, of hotel, flat, and block of shops, I fade, she was beginning. I disappear, but London would have none of it, and rushed her bayonets into the sky, pinioned her, constrained her to partnership in her revelry. — Virginia Woolf