Preux Proper Quotes & Sayings

Actually, I played Pontius Pilate as nice. An actor spends his life thinking he is Christ, and then he gets to play the character that killed him. — James Nesbitt

The world is coloured rather than stained by such beliefs,and accepting another's values is far more Christian than falling to your knees every time you see a stained glass window. — Chris Harrison

I think that a lot of guys reach for electronics first, but the truth is that you can never keep up with electronics. You buy a flat-screen TV, and then six months later, there's one that has 3D and Blu-ray and all this business, and that is just going to keep continuing. — Nate Berkus

All birds during the pairing season become more or less sentimental, and murmur soft nothings in a tone very unlike the grinding-organ repetition and loudness of their habitual song. The crow is very comical as a lover; and to hear him trying to soften his croak to the proper Saint-Preux standard has something the effect of a Mississippi boatman quoting Tennyson. — James Russell Lowell

I really don't know if I'm doing any good,' he said. 'James Bond just unscrews things,' said Anathema. — Terry Pratchett

And now, it's too late, and I will never stop grieving that. But I'm on the path, Asajj. You bought my chance with blood, and I won't waste it, I swear I won't. Every day, every minute of my life, I'll live it. For me, and for you. I'll fight, because you can't, and I'll laugh, and I'll do everything I possibly can with everything I have in me to make things better, because this galaxy has seen too much of darkness. — Christie Golden

Grieving is a journey that teaches us how to love in a new way now that our loved one is no longer with us. Consciously remembering those who have died is the key that opens the hearts, that allows us to love them in new ways. — Thomas Attig

She was sewing together the little proofs of his devotion out of which to make a garment for her tattered love and faith. He cut into the faith with negligent scissors, and she mended and sewed and rewove and patched. He wasted, and threw away, and could not evaluate or preserve, or contain, or keep his treasures. Like his ever torn pockets, everything slipped through and was lost, as he lost gifts, mementos
all the objects from the past. She sewed his pockets that he might keep some of their days together, hold together the key to the house, to their room, to their bed. She sewed the sleeve so he could reach out his arm and hold her, when loneliness dissolved her. She sewed the lining so that the warmth would not seep out of their days together, the soft inner skin of their relationship. — Anais Nin