Pearse Irish Whiskey Quotes & Sayings

Hate gets going, it goes round, it gets older and tighter and older and tighter, until it holds a person inside it like a fist holds a stick. — Ursula K. Le Guin

The vicar, a gentle, middle-aged man, was always the last to hear anything. — Agatha Christie

When a guy sees a car he likes,
all he can think about is getting under the hood or taking her for a ride. — Penny Reid

Synths are a very low level of artificial intelligence. Whereas you have a Stradivarius that will live for a thousand years. — Thomas Bangalter

I think a lot of people have an idealistic view - if you grow up in the country, there can't possibly be anything wrong with you. — PJ Harvey

The Noblest form of Affection — Oscar Wilde

Child actors don't have great track records. — Leslie Mann

When God wounds from on high he will follow with the remedy. — Fernando De Rojas

Oh sure, the songs have all totally evolved. I mean, when you're playing the same songs night in night out, they take on a life of their own. I can't even remember what I wrote some of them about now! — Gary Jules

Selfishness of the stable or rigid sort is as a rule more bitterly resented than the more fickle variety, chiefly, no doubt, because, having more continuity and purpose, it is more formidable. — Charles Horton Cooley

When we're true to ourselves, we become instruments of truth for the planet. Because we're all connected, we touch the lives of everyone around us, who then affect others. Our only obligation is to be the love we are and allow our answers to come from within in the way that's most appropriate for us. — Anita Moorjani

For I am certain, O men of Athens, that if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago and done no good either to you or to myself. — Plato

In your hands you hold the seeds of failure - or the potential for greatness. — Zig Ziglar

Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us. — Evelyn Waugh