Niebauer Quotes & Sayings

I need to be casual but not too casual. Dressy but not too dressy. I need him to think I just threw on the first thing I found and that I'm not taking this too seriously or overthinking it or even that I was thinking about it at all. Because I'm not. I'm totally not thinking about him, and I don't want him to think I was thinking about him, but I don't want him to think that I'm not thinking about him, because clearly he thought about me enough to ask me out and it would be mean not to be thinking about him at all, so I need just the right amount of thinking, and I'm not sure if that means boots and a skirt or skinny jeans and ballet flats. Help! — Gemma Halliday

A sophisticated human can become primitive. What this really means is that the human's way of life changes. Old values change, become linked to the landscape with it's plants and animals. This new existence requires a working knowledge of those multiplex and cross-linked events usually referred to as Nature. It requires a measure of respect for the inertial power within such natural systems. When a human gains this knowledge and respect, that is called "being primitive". The converse, of course, is equally true: the primitive human can become sophisticated, but not without incurring dreadful psychological damage. — Frank Herbert

But however close we sometimes seem to that dark and final abyss, let no man of peace and freedom despair. For he does not stand alone. — John F. Kennedy

Occasionally we will be overwhelmed, but mostly we will be enchanted. — Jean Houston

I am the product of Denny O'Neil in many ways, I carry forth a lot of what Denny instilled in me. — Greg Rucka

Of course it's heavier, he thought. It's got my grief in it. I pull it along with me everywhere I go, so I do. — Stephen King

To me, the fact that the Mexican came North in search of a better life is a tremendous epic that hasn't been written. It's an odyssey that we know nothing about. And they came with a dream for a better life. — Rudolfo Anaya

The blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook, Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Before you either turn away in disgust or wink knowingly at one another, you should know that the artist insists that this is a picture about love. Filial love. The old man has been condemned by the Roman senate to die of hunger, and his daughter has come to his prison cell and offered her breast to feed him. This has nothing to do with with the decorous love or amorous passions one is more accustomed to seeing in a painting. It is raw and wretched and demeaning. In the end, we are physical bodies and every abstract notion about love sinks beneath this fact. — Debra Dean