Patternsonly Quotes & Sayings

God is life...Life is all and, too, we see it as simply a word. Yet words born of love, written, spoken or sung, illuminate and redeem the human soul. They become the rays of sunshine that transform an ordinary day. — Dana Rondel

I have to have you in my life. I won't cross that line with you. It's too risky and I won't chance it, not with us — Alison G. Bailey

Are you sure you're not a witch?" he teased lightly, his teeth nipping at the sensitive lobe of my ear.
My stomach twittered excitedly and I leaned into him.
"If I'm a witch, you're a devil," I returned breathlessly, hoping against hope that he wouldn't stop, that we could just continue on in our little bubble of oblivion.
Jackson chuckled, a sound that sent chills racing down my back.
"Now that's entirely possible," Jackson admitted, leaning back to grin down into my face. When his eyes settled on mine, his smile died and I fell headlong into the intensity of his sky blue gaze. "I love you. — M. Leighton

Have concern about where you're from, where you live, and where you may travel. The village is global. — T.F. Hodge

I was fat because I lived in the Midwest in the 1970s, and everyone was a little fat then and only getting fatter. — Jami Attenberg

It seems astounding to me now that the video games are perhaps as important as the movie themselves. And people will spend 2 or 3 years obsessing about the video game in exactly the same way that they'd be obsessing about the movie if they were working on that. — John Cleese

little sun little moon little dog
and a little to eat and a little to love
and a little to live for

in a little room
filled with little
mice
who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep
waiting for a little death
in the middle of a little morning

in a little city
in a little state
my little mother dead
my little father dead
in a little cemetery somewhere.

I have only
a little time
to tell you this:

watch out for
little death when he comes running

but like all the billions of little deaths
it will finally mean nothing and everything:

all your little tears burning like the dove,
wasted. — Charles Bukowski