Sandpile Groups Quotes & Sayings

One of the things I want to do that's outside the realm of acting and the arts - although both have their place in this - is ending childhood hunger here in America. — Jeff Bridges

He shook my hand and said goodbye with a sentence that might have been either good advice or a threat: Take good care of yourself. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Put to death? I thought God was supposed to be all about forgiveness, not the death penalty. — Jessica Verdi

I nodded. I was ready. In fact I was so ready that if he didn't do something soon, if he didn't touch me in the next five seconds, it was very possible I might die. Right there on the bed. Still a virgin. — Sarah Alderson

Love me until Venus gasps with envy.
Love me again until Eros swears celibacy. — Gloria D. Gonsalves

I hate that the actions of a minority can influence the opinions of a majority. — Sarah Ayoub

Be the designer of your own future. — Debasish Mridha

One of my pet theories is that readers have built-in BS detectors that enable them to recognize insincerity in writers. David [Halberstam] was sincerity to the core. He believed in what he wrote, and that conviction conveyed itself to readers. — Jonathan Yardley

Why should not our whole life and its scenery be actually thus fair and distinct? All our lives want a suitable background. They should at least, like the life of the anchorite, be as impressive to behold as objects in a desert, a broken shaft or crumbling mound against a limitless horizon. — Henry David Thoreau

The course of a great statesman resembles that of navigable rivers, avoiding immovable obstacles with noble bends of concession, seeking the broad levels of opinion on which men soonest settle and longest dwell, following and marking the almost imperceptible slopes of national tendency, yet always aiming at direct advances, always recruited from sources nearer heaven, and sometimes bursting open paths of progress and fruitful human commerce through what seem the eternal barriers of both. — James Russell Lowell

It was summer again, and the summer nights smelled like murdered grass and sounded like crickets fucking. — Lev Grossman