Ruggine Clothing Quotes & Sayings

The real madness probably is not another thing that the wisdom itself that, tired of discovering the shames of the world, has taken the intelligent resolution to become mad — Heinrich Heine

She'd sworn she wouldn't end up like her little brother, but loneliness didn't arrive with flashing bulbs and a warning label. The descent was as simple and complex as a faked smile, white lies about being "okay," and the nod and acceptance as her own peers didn't delve deeper, shutting the coffin lid for her. — Katherine McIntyre

If anything, I believe that when I die, I will have to stand in front of all the children who went to bed hungry while I was on earth and read aloud a list of my eBay purchases. I shudder to think of it. Explaining to a poor child with a swollen belly why I didn't give his village fifty cents a week but spent twenty-seven dollars in a bidding war for a Mars Attacks coffee cup. — Dana Gould

Never say love is "like" anything... It isn't. — Michael Chabon

a Nean derthal with a badge. — C.J. Box

Might have been and could have done, neither worth thinking on. — Garth Nix

Life, on confidence, is an extraordinary and powerful thing — Claire Shipman

I should not mistake her calm probing for the absence of anger. — Ta-Nehisi Coates

Did you know, you're sort of beautiful?'
'You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you? — Stephenie Meyer

I'm not comfortable singing in front of people yet. That's going to take another 100 performances. — David Friedman

I read it twice, then I said, "Well, why don't you?"
"Why don't I what?"
"Why don't you wish her many happy returns? It doesn't seem much to ask."
"But she says on her birthday."
"Well, when is her birthday?"
"Can't you understand?" said Bobbie. "I've forgotten."
"Forgotten!" I said.
"Yes," said Bobbie. "Forgotten."
"How do you mean, forgotten?" I said. "Forgotten whether it's the twentieth or the twenty-first, or what? How near do you get to it?"
"I know it came somewhere between the first of January and the thirty-first of December. That's how near I get to it. — P.G. Wodehouse