Ovudate Quotes & Sayings

This isn't to deny that there were fierce arguments, at the time and ever since, about the causes and goals of both the Civil War and the Second World War. But 1861 and 1941 each created a common national narrative (which happened to be the victors' narrative): both wars were about the country's survival and the expansion of the freedoms on which it was founded. Nothing like this consensus has formed around September 11th ... Indeed, the decade since the attacks has destroyed the very possibility of a common national narrative in this country. — George Packer

I'm just sayin'. I've have been around this block a lot longer than Siri. — Mark Andrew Poe

This softening she sees in me isn't enough to make me affectionate, but it's just enough to render me inept. I can't give her what she wants - virtuousness - or what she needs - protection. — Nenia Campbell

That was a stretch of the truth, but things sometimes needed to stretch if they were going to grow. — Jennifer Griffith

Paradise Lost is sometimes Heaven found. — Arthur Yorinks

The process of setting a goal, learning the necessary steps to achieve it, and giving it your best until you've mastered it will generate high self-esteem and pride. Those are feelings associated with joy. — Jude Bijou

I want to burn as a beacon of possibility. I don't want nobody to misconstrue the commercial success I've had as anything other than an example of what black music is capable of. And what it's capable of is being more than just black. I'm not black or white anymore. I'm Cee Lo Green. — CeeLo Green

The characters that I have on Twitter have very little resemblance to me, the person who's writing them. — Michael Ian Black

In their role as celestial servants to humans on earth, Angels act variously as guardians, guides, teachers, truth-givers and comforters, protectors of the righteous, punishers of the wicked, and more. — David Connolly

JULY 20. I've just walked into the opera house. I have no programme. Strange new players are premiering a piece by a flamboyant new composer. Front and centre, three, maybe four, whales begin - a swelling string section - discordant, irresolute harmonies fill the concert hall. Then two more whales, stage right, come in, playing eight octave clarinets, counterpointing the string section. And then they, too, are counterpointed by occasional glissando slurs and passages played pizzicato by whales at the rear of the stage. But suddenly, a programme change: The orchestra members switch clothes and pull new instruments from their cases. The French horn players begin wailing on shiny, sleazy saxophones. The trumpeters spit rapid-fire bursts into an underwater echo chamber - the deep, rocky corridor of Johnstone Strait. — Erich Hoyt

The conclusion I have reached is that, above all, dogs are witnesses. They are allowed access to our most private moments. They are there when we think we are alone. Think of what they could tell us. They sit on the laps of presidents. They see acts of love and violence, quarrels and feuds, and the secret play of children. If they could tell us everything they have seen, all of the gaps of our lives would stitch themselves together. — Carolyn Parkhurst

I've eaten sheep's eyes, the still hot meat from a zebra killed by a lion, and maggots which give you 70 calories to the ounce. — Bear Grylls

Bodybuilding is 80% nutrition! — Vince Gironda

Nothing remains but to hope the end will come to extinguish the unrelenting pain of waiting for it. — Pier Paolo Pasolini

Have you ever happened, reader, to feel that subtle sorrow of parting with an unloved abode? The heart does not break, as it does in parting with dear objects. The humid gaze does not wander around holding back a tear, as if it wished to carry away in it a trembling reflection of the abandoned spot; but in the best corner of our hearts we feel pity for the things which we did not bring to life with our breath, which we hardly noticed and are now leaving forever. This already dead iventory will not be resurrected in one's memory.. — Vladimir Nabokov