Putao Cen Quotes & Sayings

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more. — Jim Thompson

Colonies are the outhouses of the European soul, where a fellow can let his pants down and relax, enjoy the smell of his own shit. — Thomas Pynchon

You will work harder at something you love than at something you like. You will work harder than you have ever worked when you start chasing a dream. You will hustle and grind and sweat and push and pull. You will get up earlier and go to bed later. But that's okay. — Jon Acuff

He's America in action - opposed to quality. — James Purdy

Me, Polly Garter, under the washing line, giving the breast in the garden to my bonny new baby. Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies. And where's their fathers live, my love? Over the hills and far away. You're looking up at me now. I know what you're thinking, you poor little milky creature. You're thinking, you're no better than you should be, Polly, and that's good enough for me. Oh, isn't life a terrible thing, thank God? — Dylan Thomas

I have mentally become a woman in order to steal into her heart. — Mahatma Gandhi

Comedy is about talking about my own experience, and I'm a woman, and that's my experience, and just because it isn't yours doesn't invalidate it. — Sarah Silverman

The question is, does the educated citizen know he is only a cog in an ecological mechanism? That if he will work with that mechanism his mental wealth and his material wealth can expand indefinitely? But that if he refuses to work with it, it will ultimately grind him to dust? If education does not teach us these things, then what is education for? — Aldo Leopold

He won't listen to the music, and I can't turn it off. — V.C. Andrews

I don't believe in yesterday, by the way. — John Lennon

I said very little. I knew that for the time being I was the open air, the place to put the words, not a real interlocutor. And then, ekthout a transition of any kind, she began to tell me .... {p. 134} — Siri Hustvedt