Rauchenwalderhof Quotes & Sayings

Nice chatting with you, Torin. I'd say don't ever speak to me again but that would be pointless because you're always around, stalking me, waiting to play the hero. Whatever game you're playing, it's not working. I already have a hero and he's... he's mortal and amazing. When we kiss, I don't think, I feel. — Ednah Walters

Growing up, there are always those kids who are only happy when they are making someone else upset. That is unfortunately just how some people are. And their parents were fine. Some people are just born with bad wiring. — Patton Oswalt

But love may have to be left off the exam. Most of us will never learn. — Robert Fulghum

Remembering that man is indeed the microcosm, the universe in miniature, the Divine Dance of the future should be able to convey with its slightest gestures some significance of the universe. — Ruth St. Denis

A positive self-image has little relationship to our material circumstances. — Ezra Taft Benson

Our love of art is often quite temporary, dependent upon our moods, and our love of art is subservient to our demand for a positive self-image. How we look at art should account for those imperfections and work around them. — Tyler Cowen

You can't save anybody. — Jodie Sweetin

Slowly, my feelings started to shrivel up. The few that managed to survive the constant beatings staggered around like wounded baby deer, just biding their time until they could die and join all the other carcasses strewn across the wasteland of my soul. — Allie Brosh

All those men had died for some senseless reason, died perhaps without ever knowing exactly what they had fought to accomplish. — Terry Brooks

The whole thing was weird, and that was saying something for a girl who was used to weird. — Aileen Erin

We all came up out of the ground and took our forms. So much harder for us to have a form because we have one on the outside and too many inside. Depth, surface, power, fragility, direction, indirection, arrogance, servility, rocks, roots, grass, blossoms, dirt. We are a tangle of roots, a young branch, a flower, a moldy spore. You want to say, This is me; this is who I am. But you don't even know what it is, or what it's for. Time parts its shabby curtain: There is my father, listening to his music hard enough to break his own heart. Trying to borrow shapes for his emotions so that he may hold them out to the world and the world might say, Yes, we see. We feel. We understand. I touch the hazelnut bush gently as I pass. — Mary Gaitskill