Otomen Mangahere Quotes & Sayings

If there's no world 'out there' what are you reacting to? Ask yourself that question every moment of every day when your peace is disturbed. — Kenneth Wapnick

When golf used to be a rich man's sport, if you were poor you could not step foot on a course. — Shia Labeouf

She had done her residency at LA County Hospital, where the CT machines were so old she had to mark off the body parts for scanning with paper clips. She thought Baghdad hospitals might be like that. — Leslie Cockburn

Sick of crying, tired of trying, yes I'm smiling, but inside I'm dying — Unknown

In Elizabethan England you will only find small codpieces. Large ones, stuffed with wool and looking like an erect male member, are out of date — Ian Mortimer

You sit here for days saying, This is strange business. You're the strange business. You have the energy of the sun in you, but you keep knotting it up at the base of your spine. You're some weird kind of gold that wants to stay melted in the furnace, so you won't have to become coins. — Rumi

I don't eat anything that runs away from me. — Russell Simmons

I could see the combinations and permutations flutter through their minds. This was Boulder. It could easily be two moms. Two dads. A dad, a mom, and an orangutan. Three Amish hipsters and a transgendered Aboriginal mermaid. — Bill Konigsberg

Everyone would die but me," she said. "They'd all take pills and die. They'll do it right away so they don't use up any food. Commander Lewis picked me to be the survivor. She told me about it yesterday. I don't think NASA knows about it. — Andy Weir

He imagined that he stood near Emma in a wide land and, humbly and in tears, bent and kissed the elbow of her sleeve. — James Joyce

What point is there in dying in a ward, listening to the moans and rasps of the terminally ill? Wouldn't it be better to spend the twenty-seven thousand on a banquet, then, after taking poison, depart for the other world to the sound of violins, surrounded by intoxicated beautiful women and dashing friends? — Mikhail Bulgakov