Pappageorgeos Quotes & Sayings

It was his misfortune that most of the men he knew preferred immaculate linen and their clubs to nakedness and the jungle. It was, of course, difficult to understand, yet it was very evident that they did. — Edgar Rice Burroughs

Okay, so how, exactly, did I get into this mess - up onstage at a comedy club, baking like a bag of French fries under a hot spotlight that shows off my sweat stains( including one that sort of looks like Jabba the Hutt), with about a thousand beady eyeballs drilling into me? — James Patterson

Whenever we play a really good game, everybody's going to be a hero, and the good part about it is nobody's trying to be a hero. — Carlos Gonzalez

Deciding which relationships to pursue can be difficult. Especially if you're trying to get hired by the Magic 8 Ball factory and that little triangle thing isn't floating right. — Ryan Lilly

One of the best things I've read about that inexplicably, but endlessly, fascinating group of people, the so-called Serious Collectors of 78s. Petrusich burrows into not just their personalities but the hunger that unites and drives their obsessions. She writes elegantly, and makes you think, and most important manages to hang onto her skepticism in the midst of her own collecting quest. — John Jeremiah Sullivan

I want an ending when the woman is happy instead of good. — Elin Hilderbrand

I play enough other mad people, as well and some sane people, to vary the palette of what's scrabbling around in my head and soul to bring to the floor, as a storyteller. — Benedict Cumberbatch

Life consists not merely in existing, but in enjoying health. — Martial

He leaned down and whispered, "I love you," in Honoria's ear.
Just because he wanted to.
She didn't look up, but she smiled.
And he smiled, too — Julia Quinn

And so many things get lost. Not just a set of keys or a photograph of your father with his first truck, but the door those keys once opened, the childhood house you long ago walked into, the father who used to carry you on his shoulders high above the crowds at the summer fair, his body now ashes and shards of bone. You hold these things in place on a page, you walk through that door, touch his face and smell the cigarette smoke on his breath and in his shirt, you make things breathe again in words. You feel the lightness of a ghostly touch across your skin. In that small house on the corner, the porch light suddenly comes on. — Lorna Crozier

No one had ever called me unnatural before, except for the time I put ketchup on a taco. But seriously, we'd been out of salsa, so what else was I supposed to do? — Richelle Mead

I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen that much of him on display. It was wonderful and frightening on the same time. I then said the stupidest thing possible.
"You're not scared of anything."
"I'm scared of a lot of things. I was scared for you" He released me, and I stepped back. There was still passion and worry written all over him. "I'm not perfect, I'm not invulnerable. — Richelle Mead