Naimoli Estate Quotes & Sayings

I'm afraid that if I stop writing I'll stop thinking and start feeling. — Carrie Fisher

Having thyroid cancer in 2009 really didn't change my life at all. I wish I could say that I had this epiphany. But I knew I was lucky before that, so it's not like I suddenly realised how lucky I am. — Clare Balding

Nothing great ever happens overnight. Greatness takes time #justsayin — Timothy Pina

Bach-y-Rita developed a program for people with damaged facial motor nerves, who could not move their facial muscles and so couldn't close their eyes, speak properly, or express emotion, making them look like monstrous automatons. Bach-y-Rita had one of the "extra" nerves that normally goes to the tongue surgically attached to a patient's facial muscles. Then he developed a program of brain exercises to train the "tongue nerve" (and particularly the part of the brain that controls it) to act like a facial nerve. These patients learned to express normal facial emotions, speak, and close their eyes - one more instance of Bach-y-Rita's ability to "connect anything to anything. — Anonymous

I grew up with some kind of storytelling instinct, and when I write, my default setting is to find a story and then to tell it. It's the only way I know how to write. — Khaled Hosseini

Bhutto acknowledged the difficulties faced by women who were breaking with tradition and taking leading roles in public life. She deftly managed to refer both to the challenges I had encountered during my White House tenure and to her own situation. "Women who take on tough issues and stake out new territory are often on the receiving end of ignorance," she concluded. In a private meeting with the Prime Minister, we talked about her upcoming visit to Washington in April, and I spent time with her husband and their children. Because I had heard that their marriage was arranged, I found their interaction particularly interesting. — Hillary Rodham Clinton

It was the hour in which objects lose the consistency of shadow that accompanies them during the night and gradually reacquire colors, but seem to cross meanwhile an uncertain limbo, faintly touched, just breathed on by light; the hour in which one is least certain of the world's existence. — Italo Calvino