Schlubby Fries Quotes & Sayings

There are a zillion variables to a hamburger. What part of the animal went into it. What coarseness. What temperature. — Danny Meyer

The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office. — Robert Frost

Perdonare
"Forgive Yourself) — Mitch Albom

My father left me with a clear sense that the media was something different. — Rupert Murdoch

Let them come. We've got helicopters, tanks, jets, and big guns. We've got armies of robots. What do they have but their stench and the squalor they live in? — Michael Monroe

Accustom yourself to master and overcome things of difficulty; for if you observe, the left hand for want of practice is insignificant, and not adapted to general business; yet it holds the bridle better than the right, from constant use. — Pliny The Elder

I am still young. I have a lot of time. And if someone breaks my records in the future, I won't cry. That's sport. — Noureddine Morceli

She can be pious, she can be learned, she can be witty and wise and beautiful, but if she is married to a fool she will be "that poor Mrs. Fool" until the day he dies. — Philippa Gregory

Let the long contention cease! / Geese are swans, and swans are geese. — Matthew Arnold

Here I am," I say to the palm trees. "I can do this. Watch me. — Eileen Granfors

Would they call me a diva if I were a guy? — Zaha Hadid

Scapegoat, n.
I think our top two are:
1. Not enough coffee.
2. Too much coffee. — David Levithan

Dedicate the precious days of your lives to the betterment of the world — Baha'u'llah

Dear Halford, When we were together last, you gave me a very particular and interesting account of the most remarkable occurrences of your early life, previous to our acquaintance; and then you requested a return of confidence from me. Not being in a story-telling humour at the time, I declined, under the plea of having nothing to tell, and the like shuffling excuses, which were regarded as wholly inadmissible by you; for though you instantly turned the conversation, it was with the air of an uncomplaining, but deeply injured man, and your face was overshadowed with a cloud which darkened it to the end of our interview, and, for what I known, darkens it still; for your letters have, ever since, been distinguished by a certain dignified, semi-melancholy stiffness and reserve, that would have been very affecting, if my conscience had accused me of deserving it. — Anne Bronte