Rizki Quotes & Sayings

Love has different shape, like this falling snow in winter — Rizki De

If you have to ask yourself whether or not you love a girl or you love a boy, forget it. You don't. — Ray Bradbury

So there I was, feeling like the luckiest girl on earth. To be buried alive in such a majestic coffin! MAJOR life goal achieved!!!! — Rob Reger

My children are the focal point of my life. I was asking for a little more time to spend with them. — Hunter Tylo

It is important to make a dream of life and a dream reality. — Pierre Curie

The nature of mind is that it loves everything once it loves itself, just as it opposes everything when it opposes itself. — Byron Katie

Reading, like other types of art appreciation, is intensely personal. So what appeals to people is going to depend on who they are. It depends on what is happening in their life at any given moment. On what has happened to them over the course of their personal history and what makes them feel any number of things. The value of art, when it comes to being appreciated by the beholder makes the person consuming it part of that process. Failing to appreciate that integral part of the process is done at your own peril.
[*Pulls Ranty Pants Up* In Which Lauren Dane Discusses Art, Publishing, Trash and Writing What you Want, Blog Post, May 16, 2013] — Lauren Dane

I think I'm generally a good listener anyway. — Joe Sacco

Dear Halford, When we were together last, you gave me a very particular and interesting account of the most remarkable occurrences of your early life, previous to our acquaintance; and then you requested a return of confidence from me. Not being in a story-telling humour at the time, I declined, under the plea of having nothing to tell, and the like shuffling excuses, which were regarded as wholly inadmissible by you; for though you instantly turned the conversation, it was with the air of an uncomplaining, but deeply injured man, and your face was overshadowed with a cloud which darkened it to the end of our interview, and, for what I known, darkens it still; for your letters have, ever since, been distinguished by a certain dignified, semi-melancholy stiffness and reserve, that would have been very affecting, if my conscience had accused me of deserving it. — Anne Bronte