Muddy Puddles Quotes & Sayings

Dorian, we get to come back from this loss - from this darkness. We get to come back, and I came back for you. — Sarah J. Maas

When I read these books, I no longer felt like I was confined to a very tiny world. I no longer felt housebound and bedbound. Really, I told myself, I was just brainbound. And this was not such a sorry state of affairs. My brain, with a little help from other people's brains, could take me to some pretty interesting places, and create all kinds of wonderful things. Despite its faults, my brain, I decided, was not the worst place in the world to be. — Gavin Extence

You are so unique that you can make your success unlimited & be always needed for nobody can do what you do exactly like you — Anyaele Sam Chiyson

[Obamacare] was going to be the Republicans' big issue, and they're not talking about it because it's working. — Bill Maher

I to whom there is not beauty enough in moon or tree; to whom the touch of one person with another is all, yet who cannot grasp even that, who am so imperfect, so weak, so unspeakably lonely. There I sat. — Virginia Woolf

Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it? — Jennifer E. Smith

The first bout of warm spring rain caused normally respectable women to pull off their stockings and run through muddy puddles alongside their children. — Leslye Walton

One evening, when we were already resting on the floor of our hut, dead tired, soup bowls in hand, a fellow prisoner rushed in and asked us to run out to the assembly grounds and see the wonderful sunset. Standing outside we saw sinister clouds glowing in the west and the whole sky alive with clouds of ever-changing shapes and colors, from steel blue to blood red. The desolate grey mud huts provided a sharp contrast, while the puddles on the muddy ground reflected the glowing sky. Then, after minutes of moving silence, one prisoner said to another, How beautiful the world could be ... — Viktor E. Frankl

He knows how Molly grieves. Once he's gone, she'll lock the place up. Then she'll cry some and drink some. And she'll do that, over and over again, until the skin over this latest wound has grown tough enough for her to carry on. — Moira Young