Papamichail Ioannis Quotes & Sayings

I'm a fiction writer, and I do write essays, but I am not a poet. And I absolutely reject the phrase 'woman writer' as anti-feminist. I wrote an essay about this as far back as 1977, at the height of the neo-feminist movement. — Cynthia Ozick

Nothing ensures the success of the child more in the society than being read to from infancy to young adulthood. Reading books to and with children is the single most important thing a parent, grandparent, or significant adult can do. — Anita Silvey

I'm hungry and we're having a great day then I'm slobbering all over you. It'll be amazing. — Bijou Hunter

Expectation works in mysterious ways---and totally unconsciously. — Michael Crichton

The willow tree plays the water like a harp. — Ramon Gomez De La Serna

I was Versace's muse, I was Valentino's muse, I was Alaia's muse, Lancetti's muse, Calvin Klein's, Halston's. I could go on and on. — Janice Dickinson

Love is photogenic, it develops in the dark. — Lorraine Gokul

I always think of childhood as the inarticulate moment, and you have your little camera. You were filming it, recording it, you just didn't know how to speak it. — Eileen Myles

The gentle Kathryn thumps the engagement ring in his face, thumps it as you'd thump a spider — Ben Fountain

You really don't get how amazing you are, do you? Well let me make it really clear for you - so amazing that I would risk everything, just to let you know. Just to tell you I love you, Sergei. I love you. I love you more than my life — Charlotte Stein

There is nobody out there that will ever be what you are to me. Nobody will ever be pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, or as big of a pain in my ass as you are. You're the only one I want. You're the only one I've ever wanted. — Claire Contreras

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity. — Kahlil Gibran

Could it be that the Lord was still, child and man, suffering for his race, to deliver his brothers and sisters from their sins? - wandering, enduring, beaten, blessing still? accepting the evil, slaying it, and returning none? his patience the one rock where the evil word finds no echo; his heart the one gulf into which the dead-sea wave rushes with no recoil - from which ever flows back only purest water, sweet and cool; the one abyss of destroying love, into which all wrong tumbles, and finding no reaction, is lost, ceases for evermore? there, — George MacDonald