Ny Yankees Quotes & Sayings

In slow drowning waves the knowledge washed over Cressida, her professor did not think that she was so special after all. He didn't know her father Zeno. Was that it? — Joyce Carol Oates

I currently live in the Plaza in New York and I love it - all that history, all those interesting stories. — Tommy Hilfiger

My biggest influences were 1980s punk and metal. Metallica were my biggest influence because they were good at everything - riffs, energy - but with such an ear for melody, it was hard not to get pulled into it and become a fanatic. — Corey Taylor

What's missing is the eyeballs
in each of us, but it doesn't matter
because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. — Anne Sexton

Very few people believe in the devil these days, which suits the devil very well. He is always helping to circulate the news of his own death. The essence of God is existence, and He defines Himself as: 'I am Who am.' The essence of the devil is the lie, and he defines himself as: 'I am who am not.' Satan has very little trouble with those who do not believe in him; they are already on his side. — Fulton J. Sheen

The pair sat relaxed and stared toward U.S. 1 at nothing in particular. Coleman rested his joint on the edge of the window and popped a beer. "This is the life." "You said it, buddy." Serge uncapped a bottle of water. "Florida, a full tank of gas, and no appointments. — Tim Dorsey

I don't have an all-embracing vision which people have to buy. I'm simply trying to work with the struggles we all deal with every day while we're trying to live out our personal destinies and make a living at the same time. — David Whyte

If it had been great sex I doubt I'd remember he tooted between thrusts. — Laura Castoro

You call that begging? Oh, Kitten, you can do better than that ... — Jeaniene Frost

Sickness sensitizes man for observation, like a photographic plate. — Edmond De Goncourt

One evening he appeared with an infant in his arms at the door of his ex-wife, Martha. Because Briony, his lovely young wife after Martha, had died. Of what? We'll get to that. I can't do this alone, Andrew said, as Martha stared at him from the open doorway. It happened to have been snowing that night, and Martha was transfixed by the soft creature-like snowflakes alighting on Andrew's NY Yankees hat brim. Martha was like that, enrapt by the peripheral things as if setting them to music. Even in ordinary times, she was slow to respond, looking at you with her large dark rolling protuberant eyes. Then the smile would come, or the nod, or the shake of the head. Meanwhile the heat from her home drifted through the open door and fogged up Andrew's eyeglasses. He stood there behind his foggy lenses like a blind man in the snowfall and was without volition when at last she reached out, gently took the swaddled infant from him, stepped back, and closed the door in his face. — E.L. Doctorow