Rosales Saga Quotes & Sayings

I'd love to do a comedy. Umm, I don't know when that will happen - maybe when I'm, like, 80 or something. But yeah, I'd love to. I'm just waiting for the right person to see my hilarious nature and offer me a comedy. — Lena Headey

What breadth, what beauty and power of human nature and development there must be in a woman to get over all palisades, all fences, within which she is held captive! — Alexander Herzen

To fornicate is to aspire to enter into another; the artist never emerges from himself. — Charles Baudelaire

You're a romantic at heart," he said, pinching a heap of fallen lettuce and nibbling on it. "No one would ever know it because of the mixed signals you give out." "What signals?" "Slippery When Wet mixed with Library, Next Exit. — Dannika Dark

For a moment she turned in a circle, staring at her hands, which she held high and useless, close to her breast. She bobbed and shambled like an ape doing a trick, and her face was the silly, bewildered face of a joker's victim. And yet she could make no move that was not beautiful. Her trapped terror was more lovely than any joy that Molly had ever seen, and that was the most terrible thing about it. — Peter S. Beagle

I fell in love with Virginia Woolf in college. I especially admire how well she writes about daily life, how she captures so much meaning and consequence in the smallest details of a day. — Karen Thompson Walker

A wise man neither suffers himself to be governed,
nor attempts to govern others. — Jean De La Bruyere

I don't like Sunday evenings. Or, rather, I don't like everything that goes with them - that Sunday-evening state of affairs. Without fail, come Sunday evening my head starts to ache. In varying intensity each time. Maybe a third to a half of an inch into my temples, the soft flesh throbs - as if invisible threads lead out and someone far off is yanking at the other ends. Not that it hurts so much. It ought to hurt, but strangely, it doesn't - it's like long needles probing anesthetized areas. — Haruki Murakami

A tree is an aerial garden, a botanical migration from the sea, from those earliest plants, the seaweeds; it is a purchase on crumbled rock, on ground. The human, standing, is only a different upsweep and articulation of cells. How treelike we are, how human the tree. — Gretel Ehrlich