Scrawl Books Quotes & Sayings

None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings. — John Lyly

Love is our true nature. When we do not express love in our words and actions it is like honey hidden in a rock. — Mata Amritanandamayi

At the bottom of the box were two big fairy-tale collections our father had sent us sometime after our parents divorced in 1963. I was four and my sister was five. We never saw him again. One book was a beautifully illustrated collection of Russian fairy tales inscribed, "To Rachel, from Daddy." The other, a book of Japanese fables, was inscribed to me. It had been years since I had opened them. I stared at the handwriting. Something seemed a bit off. Then it dawned on me - both inscriptions bore my own adolescent scrawl. I had always remembered the books and our father's dedications as proof of his love for us. Yet, how malleable our memories are, even if our brains are intact. Neuroscientists now suggest that while the core meaning of a long-term memory remains, the memory transforms each time we attempt to retrieve it. In fact, anatomical changes occur in the brain every single time we remember. As Proust said, "The only paradise is paradise lost. — Mira Bartok

I've done a lot of operas. I've probably done more different kind of operas than anybody. — Tod Machover

So if we have a mouth problem, in actuality what we really have is a mind and heart issue. — Karen Ehman

Instead of a book, what if we're actually writing (or not writing) in the margins of our lives? What if our lives are books? What is the sign of our presence? Are we pressing into the margins our interpretations and questions? Are we circling offending verbs and drawing furious arrows to the margin where we scrawl "irony," "frustration," "voiceless," "unfair!" Or do we simply turn the pages, passively receiving what's given, furiously disagreeing but remaining silent about it? — Patti Digh

You are so proud of your intelligence," said the master. "You are like a like a condemned man, proud of the vastness of his prison cell. — Anthony De Mello