Mischka Press Quotes & Sayings

Happiness is the freedom of choice. The freedom to choose where to live, what to do, what to buy, what to sell, from whom, to whom, when and how. — Eleni Zaude Gabre-Madhin

Adults are just making things up as they go along. And when they're scared, adults have no more answers than us kids — Mike A. Lancaster

All too often, new hires have a different expectation of their job and responsibilities than the organization does. Any miscommunication during the recruiting process needs to be cleared up ASAP. Whenever possible, give new employees a written plan of objectives and responsibilities. — Jay Samit

Life is pure adventure, and the sooner we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat life as art. — Maya Angelou

None of our competitors have ever made two systems that run the same software. — Trip Hawkins

Sinclair, your love is attracted to me. Once it begins to attract me, i will come. I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won. — Hermann Hesse

My father? My father left when I was quite young. Well actually, he was asked to leave. He had trouble metabolizing alcohol. — George Carlin

My parents were willing to let me follow my nose, do what I wanted to do, and they supported my interest by buying the books that I wanted for birthdays and Christmas, almost always poetry books. — Donald Hall

She threw her arms around him and kissed his bristly face. He kissed her back, inhibited somewhat by being unable to stop grinning. "I must stink," he said between kisses. "I haven't changed my clothes for a week." "You smell like a cheese factory," she said. "I love it." She pulled him into her bedroom and started to take his clothes off. "I'll take a quick shower," he said. "No," she said. She pushed him back on the bed. "I'm in too much of a hurry." Her longing for him was frantic. And the truth was that she relished the strong smell. It should have repelled her, but it had the opposite effect. It was him, the man she had thought might be dead, and he was filling her nostrils and her lungs. She could have wept with joy. — Ken Follett