Orvid Quotes & Sayings

There are two of us," Seth said quietly. "Everything changed the moment you were born. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

What am I doing with my life am I living it or am I just going to some hum drum job that I don't really wanna be at doing some miniscule task being paid to be a mindless drone or am I living my life on my terms - the way I want to live doing thing that I want to do - make no mistake as hard as this is- this is what I want to do! Some people can make fun of it, they can crack jokes they can analyze and criticize and make all the fun they want but I'm living my life. I'm doing it! What are you? — Kai Greene

She looked in the mirror and her hopes fell. "Our friend is behind us again and he's coming up fast. Closing the distance."
Then he knows we're on to him."
Christ! He's got a gun, Red! He's stuck his arm out the window."
Don't worry," Red told her. "Shooting a pistol left-handed from a moving car at another moving car at sixty miles an hour at this distance? Hell, he'd be lucky to hit that mountain."
There was a sharp crack and the rear window disintegrated into flashing shards. Something buzzed in the air between them and smashed into the tapedeck. Fee howled and ducked into his console.
Unless," Red continued thoughtfully, "that's Orvid Crayle behind us. He's very good. — Michael Flynn

A good book is always on tap; it may be decanted and drunk a hundred times, and it is still there for further imbibement. — Holbrook Jackson

[Jesus] teaches that just as the sun gives light to both wicked and good, and the rain brings nourishment to righteous and unrighteous, God's compassion embraces all people. There are no pre-conditions for it, nothing we need to do first, nothing we have to believe. When we are ready to receive it, it is already there. And the more we live in its presence, the more effortlessly if flows through us, until we find that we no longer need external rules or Bibles or Messiahs. — Stephen Mitchell

I love the chill October days, when the brown leaves lie thick and sodden underneath your feet ... the evenings in late autumn time, when the white mist creeps across the fields, making it seem as though old Earth, feeling the night air cold to its poor bones, were drawing ghostly bedclothes round its withered limbs. — Jerome K. Jerome