Phaetons Tomb Quotes & Sayings

I believe we are all geniuses-each in our own unique way. — Shakti Gawain

We may be masters of our every lot By bearing it. — Virgil

I hate cats."
Death's face became a little stiffer, if that were possible. The blue glow in his eye sockets flickered red for an instant.
"I SEE," he said. The tone suggested that death was too good for cat haters. — Terry Pratchett

If a man in order to shoot a hare, were to discharge thousands of guns on a great moor in all possible directions; if in order to get into a locked room, he were to buy ten thousand casual keys, and try them all; if, in order to have a house, he were to build a town, and leave all the other houses to wind and weather - assuredly no one would call such proceedings purposeful and still less would anyone conjecture behind these proceedings a higher wisdom, unrevealed reasons, and superior prudence. — J. W. N. Sullivan

Bye Caspian!' I called out. He stopped, and threw me a big grin over his shoulder. I grinned back like the Cheshire cat. What was it about him that made me feel so ridiculously happy? — Jessica Verday

The Parisian grocers insisted that I interact with them personally: if I wasn't willing to take the time to get to know them and their wares, then I would not go home with the freshest legumes or cuts of meat in my basket. They certainly made me work for my supper-- but, oh, what suppers! — Julia Child

That sounds a lot like, ' I have more secrets that I'm going to spring on you whenever I feel like stopping your heart dead in your chest. — Sarah J. Maas

The wish to lead out one's lover must be a tribal feeling; the wish to be seen as loved is part of one's self-respect. — Elizabeth Bowen

Oh! my dearest love, why are our pleasures so short and so interrupted? How long is this to last?
Know you, my best Mary, that I feel myself, in your absence, almost degraded to the level of the vulgar and impure. I feel their vacant, stiff eyeballs fixed upon me, until I seem to have been infected with their loathsome meaning
to inhale a sickness that subdues me to languor. Oh! those redeeming eyes of Mary, that they might beam upon me before I sleep! Praise my forbearance
oh! beloved one
that I do not rashly fly to you, and at least secure a moment's bliss. Wherefore should I delay; do you not long to meet me? All that is exalted and buoyant in my nature urges me towards you, reproaches me with the cold delay, laughs at all fear and spurns to dream of prudence. Why am I not with you? — Michael Kelahan

For the contemplative there is no cogito ("I think") and no ergo ("therefore") but only SUM, I AM. Not in the sense of a futile assertion of our individuality as ultimately real, but in the humble realization of our mysterious being as persons in whom God dwells, with infinite sweetness and inalienable power. — Thomas Merton