Recebi M Quotes & Sayings

I can tell you my heart turned to stone at York," he says to me frankly. "Freezing cold wind and a rain that could cut through you, and the faces of the women like stone itself. They looked at me as if I had personally murdered their only son. You know what they're like - they love Richard as dearly as if he rode out only yesterday. Why do they do that? Why do they cling to him still?" I — Philippa Gregory

How sweet the words of Truth, breathed from the lips of Love. — James Beattie

You spend most of your life working and trying to hone your craft, working on your chops, working on your writing, and you don't really think about accolades. Then you get a bit older and they start coming your way. It's a nice pat on the back. — Geddy Lee

Blindly trusting financial experts is like trusting your chickens to Mr. Fox. — Robert Rolih

I really don't have a type. I never had a type. If I could put them all together, it's, like, the most different grouping. So I love when guys are funny. I love guys that are funny and goofy and over the top. And you know, I really like personality. — Kaley Cuoco

We both had our first kiss from the same boy in college (a sainted and tender soul who must have made it his business to kiss the girls who would have otherwise graduated unkissed). — Ann Patchett

I've read a lot of books, so I know bunches of stuff that sounds like it could be true. — Brian Andreas

Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle! — William Shakespeare

Megan could have kissed him. If there weren't a million obstacles, both physical and psychological, in her way, of course. — Kate Brian

Wine talks; ask anyone. The oracle at the street corner; the uninvited guest at the wedding feast; the holy fool. It ventriloquizes. It has a million voices. It unleashes the tongue, teasing out secrets you never meant to tell, secrets you never even knew. It shouts, rants, whispers. It speaks of great plans, tragic loves, and terrible betrayals. It screams with laughter. It chuckles softly to itself. It weeps in front of its own reflection. It revives summers long past and memories best forgotten. Every bottle a whiff of other times, other places, everyone ... a humble miracle — Joanne Harris