Schottenstein Quotes & Sayings

Tiger! Tiger! What of the hunting, hunter bold? Brother, the watch was long and cold. What of the quarry ye went to kill? Brother, he crops in the jungle still. Where is the power that made your pride? Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side. Where is the haste that ye hurry by? Brother, I go to my lair - to die. — Rudyard Kipling

Have we not huddled in bunkers, while some premonition of tomorrow hung in the air and a comrade started singing? Oh, it felt so melancholy! And it was kitsch. — Robert Musil

It's a funny thing. I'll be in my home town of Columbus at a restaurant or something, and the waiter maybe asks, 'What do you do?' and I say, 'Oh, I'm in a band ... Twenty One Pilots,' and he'll say, 'Cool, I'll check it out. I never heard of them.' And then I say, 'In September we're playing the Schottenstein Center,' and it's like, 'What?!' — Tyler Joseph

Ah, what broken creatures we are, and how we endure. — Anne Rice

Amanda meant to move, but somehow her feet didn't do anything. They were like Quebec, determined to be independent. — Erin McCarthy

She never seemed to second-guess her thoughts.
Me, I second-guess everything. — E. Lockhart

Vietnam was an exercise in mistaken idealism Iraq in cynical money-making. And there's no optimism or idealism now
Americans are tired of knowledge. Our leaders, the C-students from Yale, know this. We're proud of being ignorant that leaves virtue at our core. We aren't frazzled by knowledge like foreigners, so we can be trusted. — Kurt Vonnegut

All he knew was that she was beautiful ... and that, somehow, despite everything he'd done to try to stop it from happening, she'd managed to steal his heart one sassy smile at a time. — Bella Andre

Every exit is an entrance to someplace else. — Patti LaBelle

Crime and vandalism are everywhere. You have to rise above these mindless thugs and the oafish world they inhabit. Insecurity forces you to cherish whatever moral strengths you have, just as political prisoners memorize Dostoevsky's House of the Dead, the dying play Bach and rediscover their faith, parents mourning a dead child do voluntary work at a hospice. — J.G. Ballard