Romancier Burkinabe Quotes & Sayings

There is much to be said for cherry blossoms, but they seem so flighty. They are so quick to run off and leave you. And then just when your regrets are the strongest the wisteria comes into bloom, and it blooms on into the summer. There is nothing quite like it. Even the color is somehow companionable and inviting. — Murasaki Shikibu

The first half has gone how I almost half-anticipated. — Jimmy Armfield

Sometimes it feels like we're all living in a Prozac nation. The United States of Depression. — Elizabeth Wurtzel

I remember being unbelievable bummed when 'Freaks and Geeks' was canceled. — Bill Hader

Sleep. I'm here to catch you. — Lauren Dane

There are no redundant levels of security in the zone. That had been instructor Ben-Haim, back in my Ops 4-10 days. I'd learned all my paranoia from him. In the paranoia stakes, I was not worthy to secure his sandals. — Mark Henwick

Family, Duty, Honor, — George R R Martin

-Paint-
My girlfriend is so besotted that she can't take her eyes off me. After we've turned out the light she puts on her night-vision goggles, and watched me as I sleep. Quite often I am woken by her sighing and involuntary yelps of happiness. This has been going on for years, and is showing no sign of abating. Once I asked her to stop all this infra-red activity, but it didn't really work; I'd wake up to find her covering me in luminous paint, and softly whispering, 'Sometimes I wonder if you know how much I love you. — Dan Rhodes

Nothing is crueller than children who come from good homes. — Amanda Palmer

O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion! — Ben Jonson

If Mr. Obama wants to get things done, he must recognize that in Washington only the president has the power to make the first big move. — Ari Fleischer

England was alive, throbbing through all her estuaries, crying for joy through the mouths of all her gulls, and the north wind, with contrary motion, blew stronger against her rising seas. What did it mean? For what end are her fair complexities, her changes of soil, her sinuous coast? Does she belong to those who have moulded her and made her feared by other lands, or to those who have added nothing to her power, but have somehow seen her, seen the whole island at once, lying as a jewel in a silver sea, sailing as a ship of souls, with all the brave world's fleet accompanying her towards eternity? — E. M. Forster