Sambath Kumar Quotes & Sayings

Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause. — Homer

Dad said that the guy who can play guitar is going to be the life of the party. He's confusing life with death. — David Sedaris

Even Proust - there's a famous passage where Odette opens the door with a cold, she's sulky, her hair is loose and undone, her skin is patchy, and Swann, who has never cared about her until that moment, falls in love with her because she looks like a Botticelli girl from a slightly damaged fresco. Which Proust himself only knew from a reproduction. He never saw the original, in the Sistine Chapel. But even so - the whole novel is in some ways about that moment. And the damage is part of the attraction, the painting's blotchy cheeks. Even through a copy Proust was able to re-dream that image, re-shape reality with it, pull something all his own from it into the world. Because - the line of beauty is the line of beauty. It doesn't matter if it's been through the Xerox machine a hundred times. — Donna Tartt

To stand against the enemy is to rest in what Jesus has already done. — Pedro Okoro

Events fall into a pattern that we can only discern retrospectively. We credit ourselves with far more agency than we actually possess. Things happen because they happen. — Neel Mukherjee

When you're hurt, you feel stupid because you think you should have seen it coming. But if we knew everything that was going to happen to us we wouldn't get out of bed in the morning. All I'm saying is, open your mind and your heart to the possibilities. — Zane

Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope — William Shakespeare

I've dealt with a lot of producers who were pricks and I'm determined not to be that. — Clive Barker

It's different this time."
"It was different last time."
Thomas tried again. "This guy-"
"Has a third eye you can visibly see? — Myra McEntire

My own dim life should teach me this,
That life shall live for evermore,
Else earth is darkness at the core,
And dust and ashes all that is;


This round of green, this orb of flame,
Fantastic beauty such as lurks
In some wild Poet, when he works
Without a conscience or an aim.


What then were God to such as I?
'Twere hardly worth my while to choose
Of things all mortal, or to use
A tattle patience ere I die;


'Twere best at once to sink to peace,
Like birds the charming serpent draws,
To drop head-foremost in the jaws
Of vacant darkness and to cease. — Alfred Tennyson