Reniform Leaves Quotes & Sayings

All my records have been written to be records, rather than writing a group of songs and seeing if they fit together. — Justin Townes Earle

The psychiatric ward was a really creepy place and, hindsight being 20/20, the creepiest thing about it was that I truly belonged there. — Steve-O

To a man whose mind is free there is something even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of man. For with the latter it is at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered every day without a shadow of remorse. If any man were to refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous. And that is the unpardonable crime. — Romain Rolland

I am on Facebook, but mainly as a way to spy on my children. I find out more about them from their Facebook pages than from what they tell me. — Salman Rushdie

Our whole childhood remains to be reimagined. In reimagining it, we have the possibility of recovering it in the very life of our reveries as a solitary child. — Gaston Bachelard

Like musicians who can read and write complicated scores in a world without sounds, for us mathematics is a source of delight, excitement, and even controversy which are hard to share with non mathematicians. In our small micro-cosmos we should ever seek the right balance between competition and solidarity, criticism and empathy, exclusion and inclusion. — Gil Kalai

This then was English fiction, this was English criticism, and farce, after all, was but an ill-played tragedy. — Arthur Machen

Romance classically has tragic underpinnings to it. — Ronald D. Moore

An author who gives a manager or publisher any rights in his work except those immediately and specifically required for its publication or performance is for business purposes an imbecile. — George Bernard Shaw

Even if you don't believe in God, you have to believe in love. — Sandra Cisneros

He turned the pages in steady progression, though now and then he would seem to linger upon one page, one line, perhaps one word. He would not look up then. He would not move, apparently arrested and held immobile by a single word which had perhaps not yet impacted, his whole being suspended by the single trivial combination of letters in quiet and sunny space, so that hanging motionless and without physical weight he seemed to watch the slow flowing of time beneath him, thinking All I wanted was peace thinking, — William Faulkner