Snifters Tapas Quotes & Sayings

I looked up at my father's face, trying to glimpse a smile or something like it on his stricken face. But there was nothing. Not the shadow of an expression. Defeat. — Elie Wiesel

Strong Phillip, able to lift overweight nymphomaniacs with both hands. Harvey — Laurell K. Hamilton

I expect big things from myself but as long as I can keep the commitment and dedication and put the hard work in, I don't see why there's any reason not to handle it OK. — Rory McIlroy

An incredulous look spread across his face. "Fer fook's sake, Emma--don't tell me ye haven't done the nasty, yet? What's the matter wi' yeh?"

I punched him in the arm. "Shut up," I hissed. "I have no intention of discussing this with you. You're--You're just a child!"

I stomped back into the kitchen.

"A child who's plainly gettin' more than you," he yelled after me. — K.C. Dyer

When you walk around feeling quietly upset, frustrated, angry or some other negative emotion, people around you will detect it to some degree or another, even if only subconsciously. — Sam Owen

February 27: Pre-production work begins on Bus Stop. — Carl Rollyson

Definitions belong to the definer, not the defined, & I no longer wished to have my life & death foretold by others. I had endured too much to be reduced to an idea. Onto that pyre I threw so many, many words - that entire untrue literature of the past which had shackled & subjugated my as surely as the spiked iron collars & leg locks & jagged basils & balls & chains & headshaving - that had so long denied me my free voice & the stories I needed to tell. I no longer wished to read lies as to who & why I was. I knew who I was — Richard Flanagan

Not talking about things she doesn't understand to people who do or about things she does to people who don't. — Frank Crowninshield

Grief doesn't fade. Grief scabs over like my scars and pulls into new, painful configurations as it knits. It hurts in new ways. We are never free from grief. — Jesmyn Ward

Trust in the inexhaustible character of the murmur. — Andre Breton