Nejasnoca Quotes & Sayings

The writer is a spiritual anarchist, as in the depth of his soul every man is. He is discontented with everything and everybody. The writer is everybody's best friend and only true enemy - the good and great enemy. He neither walks with the multitude nor cheers with them. The writer who is a writer is a rebel who never stops. — William, Saroyan

You always see a better side of where you're visiting when a local shows you around. — Philip Treacy

We will have more Internet, larger numbers of users, more mobile access, more speed, more things online and more appliances we can control over the Internet. — Vint Cerf

So what was better for us all? An ignorance, or a cautiousness like his, towards our own hearts. — Michael Ondaatje

They all wanted something that i did not want and i would get it without wanting it, if it worked. — Ernest Hemingway,

Nobody would say, 'I'm voting for this guy because he's got the stronger chin,' but that, in fact, is partly what happens. — Daniel Kahneman

If you're thinking, 'Great! I just need to be a superhero to fight perfectionism,' I understand. Courage, compassion, and connection seem like big, lofty ideals. But in reality, they are daily practices that, when exercised enough, become these incredible gifts in our lives. And the good news is that our vulnerabilities are what force us to call upon these amazing tools. Because we're human and so beautifully imperfect, we get to practice using our tools on a daily basis. In this way, courage, compassion, and connection become gifts - the gifts of imperfection. — Brene Brown

Each place its own mind, its own psyche! Oak, Madrone, Douglas fir, red-tailed hawk, serpentine in the sandstone, a certain scale to the topography, drenching rains in the winters, fog off-shore in the summers, salmon surging up the streams - all these together make up a particular state of mind, a place-specific intelligence shared by all the humans that dwell therein, but also by the coyotes yapping in those valleys, by the bobcats and the ferns and the spiders, by all beings who live and make their way in that zone. Each place its own psyche. Each sky its own blue. — David Abram

All right." He straightened up and seemed to be true to his promise to let it go. "I will be a man about this."
That lasted until he saw the scratches on the hood from the mountain lion and the front fender, Where Abigail had dragged it off the driveway.
Wailing, he went to it and sank to his knees. He sprawled over the hood and laid his head on the damaged fender. "I'm so sorry, Bets. I should of hidden the keys. Booted your tires. Something. I had know idea anyone would hurt you so, baby. I swear I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Ayyy, how could they do this to you? How? Oh the humanity! — Sherrilyn Kenyon