Rohrbach Farm Quotes & Sayings

I was so gullible as a kid. — Michael Keaton

There's nothing to stop a man from writing unless that man
stops himself. If a man truly desires to write, then he will.
Rejection and ridicule will only strengthen him. And the longer
he is held back the stronger he will become, like a mass of rising
water against a dam. There is no losing in writing, it will make your toes laugh
as you sleep, it will make you stride like a tiger, it will fire
the eye and put you face to face with death. You will die a fighter,
you will be honored in hell. The luck of the word. Go with it, send it. — Charles Bukowski

would be made manifest nine years later, when America entered World War I and changed the course of both the war and the world. For the moment, it was enough to know that America was singularly equipped to lead the world into the twentieth century. The America in which the following stories occurred will be, in scattered glimpses, familiar to readers of 2008; if we squint, we might even mistake it for our own. — Jim Rasenberger

Purchasing the Bobcats is the culmination of my post-playing career goal of becoming the majority owner of an NBA franchise. — Michael Jordan

Derek stopped short. I smacked into his back - not for the first time, since he insisted on walking in front of me. I'd been tripping on his heels and mumbling apologies the whole way. When I'd slow down to let him get farther ahead, he'd snap at me to keep up.
"We're almost there," Simon said.
He was behind me - sticking to the curbside, walking as close as Derek. While normally I wouldn't complain about Simon being so close, I had the weird sensation of being blocked in.
As we started forward again, I tried dropping back with Tori, who lagged behind, but Simon put his finger on my elbow and steered me back into place.
"Okay," I said. "Something's up. What's with the walking blockade?"
"They're protecting you," Tori said. "Shielding you from the big bad world." — Kelley Armstrong

It didn't last long. Not many good things in a foster kid's life last long. One day, Maura was gone. Her few things were packed in paper bags and a tearful Miss Louisa carried her out to Miss Hanrahan's black state-owned Ford sedan with the state emblem on the door, and she was gone. The state had found a foster home that would take a little girl but couldn't take the rest of us. There were no long goodbyes. She was just gone. I remember having an enormous sense of helplessness when they took her. Maura didn't know where she were going or long she would be there. She was just gone — John William Tuohy

For the fact is that neuroscientists who study memory remain unclear on the question of whether each time we remember something we are accessing a stable "memory fragment" - often called a "trace" or an "engram" - or whether each time we remember something we are literally creating a new "trace" to house the thought. And since no one has yet been able to discern the material of these traces, nor to locate them in the brain, how one thinks of them remains mostly a matter of metaphor: they could be "scribbles," "holograms," or "imprints"; they could live in "spirals," "rooms," or "storage units." Personally, when I imagine my mind in the act of remembering, I see Mickey Mouse in Fantasia, roving about in a milky, navy-blue galaxy shot through with twinkling cartoon stars. — Maggie Nelson

The rightful One and the girl with the violet eyes
The One, who walks through fire and does not burn
The girl, born of the twelve
Their fates mapped together become the fate of the circle
Through their union, the birthright of the Diadochi is uncovered.
The riches of Iskander, the power of Zeus, the means to vanquish the greatest enemies.
The One, when it is his, becomes invencible. — Maggie Hall

God runs electromagnetics by wave theory on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the Devil runs them by quantum theory on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. — William Lawrence Bragg

I kiss, but I don't tell. — Miranda Hart

She wanted a life not full of things, but stories, so many stories that, if they'd had weight and heft, they wouldn't have fit into a thousand suitcases. — Sarah Addison Allen