Shakya Akhtar Quotes & Sayings

Journalist: 'Have you received any death threats?' Harry Redknapp: 'Only from the wife when I didn't do the washing up!'. — Harry Redknapp

His hand shone dully in its light. No good for throttling eunuchs, but heavy enough to smash that slimy smile into a fine red ruin. — George R R Martin

We have lost morals, justice, honor, piety and faith, and that sense of shame which, once lost, can never be restored. — Seneca The Younger

Messi and the Brazilian come up to Rafinha and say "you're one of us now kid" — Ray Hudson

Wherever I turn, the black wave rushes down on me. — Franz Kafka

All my life I wanted to go to bed with an American, and now I had, and I'm beginning to see why people don't do it more often. — Nick Hornby

One rabbi compared wise men studying the law to children tossing a ball to one another: a first sage said the meaning was this, another said the meaning was that, one gave his opinion, another begged to differ. — Israel Shenker

There is no way to master the fact with which I live. — John Barth

O Love! what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine! — Alfred Lord Tennyson

Every line is the perfect length if you don't measure it. — Marty Rubin

My whole deal when I do accents or dialects is I gotta fool the locals. If I fool the locals then I've done my job. — Brion James

I kept wishing with real regret that I were capable of living in such continued simplicity. But I am not. Sometimes I honestly want to live in a plain room with a narrow bed, a chair, a table. But then I would need a bookcase. I would see a poster I must put on the wall. I would pick up a shell here, a bowl or vase there, another poster, enough books for two bookcases, a soft rug someone might give me--and where would the first plainness be? I cannot fight too hard against it, but I regret it. — M.F.K. Fisher

He studied the nail-formation, and prodded the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging the nerve-sensations produced. It fascinated him, and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately. Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow the realization would strike him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more than so much meat... — Jack London