Potecito Quotes & Sayings

Everybody wants to get into the act! — Jimmy Durante

But...is that all there was? Is that all I get?

Yes, I'm afraid so. — Neil Gaiman

A miracle is really the only way to describe motherhood and giving birth. It's unbelievable how God has made us women and babies to endure and be able to do so much. A miracle, indeed. Such an incredible blessing. — Jennie Finch

When wholeheartedly we help someone, when in a natural and spontaneous way we care for the tree and water the flowers in the garden even though no one required us, there is authentic generosity, genuine sympathy, true love. — Samael Aun Weor

The biggest ever scientific fraud — Andrey Kapitsa

The media cause more problems than they do good. — Chris Kyle

I understand the need for deception. I should; I live a life of it. Distasteful, perhaps. But necessary. — Virginia Boecker

Things as certain as death and taxes, can be more firmly believed. — Daniel Defoe

Social progress takes effect through the replacement of all institutions by new ones; and since every institution involves the recognition of the duty of conforming to it, progress must involve the repudiation of an established duty at every step. — George Bernard Shaw

An element of the burial custom which today seems particularly macabre was the possibility of being buried with a companion, a male or female follower, presumably usually a slave, killed for the burial. — Else Roesdahl

I write in a very peculiar way. I think about a book for 25 or 30 years in a kind of inchoate way, and at one point or another, I realize the book is ready to be written. I usually have a character, a first line, and general idea of what the book is going to be about. — Charles McCarry

When the will loves anything that is below it in dignity, it degrades itself. — Fulton J. Sheen

The nominal budget is a poor indicator of the impact of government outlays and revenues. — William Vickrey

Nancy grabbed Plum's hand and together they ran around the last curve and then they were leaning against the old stone wall that marked Lookout Hill. Far, far down below them, a river was trying to wriggle its way out of a steep canyon. Over to the right, thick green hills crowded close to each other to share one filmy white cloud. To the left, as far as they could see the land flowed into valleys that shaded from a pale watery green, through lime, emerald, jade, leaf, forest to a dark, dark, bluish-green, almost black. The rivers were like inky lines, the ponds like ink blots. — Betty MacDonald

I was born January 6, 1937, eight years after Wall Street crashed and two years before John Steinbeck published The Grapes of Wrath, his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about the plight of a family during the Great Depression. — Lou Holtz