Sabuncu Rayon Quotes & Sayings

Man is the mirror God holds up to himself, the sense organ with which he apprehends his being. — Carl Jung

I understand a hen, perfectly. I mean, the intimate life of a hen, I know how it is. — Clarice Lispector

The idea that everything is purposeful really changes the way you live. To think that everything that you do has a ripple effect, that every word that you speak, every action that you make affects other people and the planet. — Victoria Moran

Fall down again, Bella?'
No, Emmett, I punched a werewolf in the face. — Stephenie Meyer

The time frame and how people treated each other was upsetting, but what's great about this story is that they really focus on the strengths of these people and the strengths of the culture, of who these Americans were. That, actually, is uplifting. — Aldis Hodge

Water is the softest thing, yet it can penetrate mountains and earth. This shows clearly the principle of
softness overcoming hardness. — Lao-Tzu

I'm weary of the battle. But a tired fighter can still be a fighter. — Robert Cormier

Your daily choices and actions should be rational and productive — Sunday Adelaja

How strange, Royce thought, that, after emerging victorious from more than a hundred real battles, the greatest moment of triumph he had ever known had come to him on a mock battlefield where he'd stood alone, unhorsed, and defeated. This morning, his life had seemed as bleak as death. Tonight, he held joy in his arms. Someone or something - fate or fortune or Jenny's God - had looked down upon him this morning and seen his anguish. And, for some reason, Jenny had been given back to him.
Closing his eyes, Royce brushed a kiss against her smooth forehead. Thank you, he thought.
And in his heart, he could have sworn he heard a voice answer, You're welcome. — Judith McNaught

He thought other resourceful people would have come, over the years, to look at it, and that the house would wear its own mild frown of self-regard, a certain half-friendly awareness of being admired. It would live up to its fame. But really there was nothing to see. The upstairs windows seemed to ponder blankly on the reflections of clouds. — Alan Hollinghurst