Scrapbooks Forever Quotes & Sayings

I always have a story in my head that needs to be written, or at least I think I do. But I usually can't find the time to write it. — Etgar Keret

The deeper the water, the easier it is for a shark to swim. — Ryohgo Narita

When you have too many people and you're trying to satisfy everybody's input, you usually end up with something so incredibly generic that it has no point of view. — Rob Zombie

You tasted it. Isn't that enough? Of what do you ever get more than a taste? That's all we're given in life, that's all we're given of life. A taste. There is no more. — Philip Roth

All I asked for was equality and independence. A rotating chairmanship might have been the answer. — D. J. Enright

You know what you sound like? A jealous girl friend.
And how are things on Planet You Wish? — Meg Cabot

As a black woman trying different products and figuring out what works best for me, the one thing that I realized is that hair brands lump us together as having 'black hair,' but all black hair is not alike. — Keshia Knight Pulliam

Our poor human heart is flawed: it is like a cake without the frosting: the first two acts of the theatre without the climax. Even its design is marred for a small piece is missing out of the side. That is why it remains so unsatisfied: it wants life and it gets death: it wants Truth and it has to settle for an education; it craves love and gets only intermittent euphoria's with satieties. Samples, reflections and fractions are only tastes, not mouthfuls. A divine trick has been played on the human heart as if a violin teacher gave his pupil an instrument with one string missing. God kept a part of man's heart in Heaven, so that discontent would drive him back again to Him Who is Eternal Life, All-Knowing Truth and the Abiding Ecstasy of Love. — Fulton J. Sheen

Why do dying people never shed tears? — Max Frisch

The monarchy is a labor intensive industry. — Harold Wilson

At the college where I teach, I'm surrounded by circus people. We aren't tightrope walkers or acrobats. We don't breathe fire or swallow swords. We're gypsies, moving wherever there's work to be found. Our scrapbooks and photo albums bear witness to our vagabond lives: college years, grad-school years, instructor-mill years, first-job years. In between each stage is a picture of old friends helping to fill a truck with boxes and furniture. We pitch our tents, and that place becomes home for a while. We make families from colleagues and students, lovers and neighbors. And when that place is no longer working, we don't just make do. We move on to the place that's next. No place is home. Every place is home. Home is our stuff. As much as I love the Cumberland Valley at twilight, I probably won't live there forever, and this doesn't really scare me. That's how I know I'm circus people. — Cathy Day