Nealla Quotes & Sayings

The only way through this is to fight. — Marissa Meyer

Memory: Recognizing the value of an alert mind and an alert memory, I will encourage mine to become alert by taking care to impress it clearly with all thoughts I wish to recall and by associating those thoughts with related subjects which I may call to mind frequently. — Bruce Lee

The world belongs to the energetic. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Rose-colored glasses are never made in bifocals because nobody wants to read the small print in dreams. — Ann Landers

Don't let your imperfections conveniently excuse you from having discipline. Have the courage to work through your imperfections. — Matthew Donnelly

Like the time I threw out Pete Murphy of Bauhaus for saying those six immortal words to Slim when he'd forgotten his backstage pass: 'Don't you know who I am?'
'Ha, ha, yeah, I do,' I said, 'You're out, arsehole'. — Peter Hook

Ellie fought the urge to stamp her foot. "I meant it this time. Do you accept my apology?"
"It appears," he said, raising his eyebrows, "that you might do me bodily harm if I do not."
"Ungracious prig," she muttered. "I am trying to apologize."
"And I," he said, "am trying to accept. — Julia Quinn

The family which takes its mauve an cerise, air-conditioned, power-steered and power-braked automobile out for a tour passes through cities that are badly paved, made hideous by litter, lighted buildings, billboards and posts for wires that should long since have been put underground. They pass on into countryside that has been rendered largely invisible by commercial art. (The goods which the latter advertise have an absolute priority in our value system. Such aesthetic considerations as a view of the countryside accordingly come second. On such matters we are consistent.) They picnic on exquisitely packaged food from a portable icebox by a polluted stream and go on to spend the night at a park which is a menace to public health and morals. Just before dozing off on an air mattress, beneath a nylon tent, amid the stench of decaying refuse, they may reflect vaguely on the curious unevenness of their blessings. Is this, indeed, the American genius? — John Kenneth Galbraith