Pageland Quotes & Sayings

If I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve round myself, if I am so occupied with myself I rarely have "a heart at leisure from itself," then I know nothing of Calvary love. — Amy Carmichael

Our limitations serve, our wounds serve, even our darkness can serve. — Rachel Naomi Remen

Whoever you are, if you know what you're doing, you don't want other people to overtake the merit of your art. — Esperanza Spalding

Lieutenant Governor Khan is the Governor in a funhouse mirror. He's short, rotund, and balding. I'm — Nat Kozinn

The dream was ennobling but doomed. It was Malcolm's curse to see this before the most of the rest of us; it was the beginning of his sainthood that when black Americans reached that point--when they arrived, that is to say, at their blackness--Malcolm was already there. — Peter Goldman

The best way to create a purposeful life is to allow the soul's decision to precede the body's action. One does not do something in order to be compassionate, one is compassionate and, therefore, does certain things in certain ways. The actions of the body were meant to be reflections of a state of being, not attempts to attain a state of being. — Neale Donald Walsch

nub. Tori nearly came unglued and started rocking and trembling so hard, the bed shook beneath her. The fleeting caress of Sam's tongue stretched her body taut, stringing her nerve endings tighter than a barbed-wire fence. "Sam . . . please . . . I need . . . " "I know, babe. I know what you need." "I need it now . . . Please!" Tori thought she'd die if Sam didn't touch her again. She lifted her butt and felt his hands clamp around her hips, and then that wonderful magic feeling of his tongue on her flesh sent her soaring into a maelstrom of sensations too powerful to resist. Sam held on to Tori as he laved her with his tongue, milking her orgasm for several moments before finally moving — Anne Marie Novark

I've always known ... I'll die alone. — James Kirk

This is the true measure of love: when we believe that we alone can love, that no one could ever have loved so before us, and that no one will ever love in the same way after us. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe