Sorheim Brygge Quotes & Sayings

This is what songs do, even dumb pop songs: they remind us that emotions are not an inconvenient and vaguely embarrassing aspect of the human enterprise but its central purpose. They make us feel specific things we might never have felt otherwise. Every time I listen to "Sunday Bloody Sunday," for instance, I feel a pugnacious righteousness about the fate of the Irish people. I hear that thwacking military drumbeat and Bono starts wailing about the news he heard today and I'm basically ready to enlist in the IRA and stomp some British Protestant Imperialist Ass, hell yes, bring on the fucking bangers and mash and let's get this McJihad started. — Steve Almond

Stop for a minute and think about how you typically interact with God. If prayer time is dominated by your own talking, some adjustments may be in order. Just as the Lord spoke to David, God also has many things to say to you, if you'll simply let Him speak. — Charles Stanley

That isn't fair." Her voice came out small, barely a whisper. "I didn't ask to be thrown into all this. I didn't ask to fall for a guy that isn't even human. It just happened and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next so if you have some magical guidebook, I'd love to borrow it. — Airicka Phoenix

An editor is like a professional reader, and as I became a better reader, I also became a better writer. — Karen Thompson Walker

Duties have been mine; consequences are God's. — Andrew Johnson

Wanting is not enough, long and you attain it. — Petrarch

I still don't know what genre I fit into. I want to try my hand at different things and find out what I am best at. I want to discover myself as an actress. — Esha Gupta

Or a mother might look at her child's cheek and ask him: "What's that, a pimple?" and see the flesh puff out a little, split, open, and at the bottom of the split an eye, a laughing eye might appear. Or they might feel things gently brushing against their bodies, like the caresses of reeds to swimmers in a river. And they will realize that their clothing has become living things. And someone else might feel something scratching in his mouth. He goes to the mirror, opens his mouth: and his tongue is an enormous, live centipede, rubbing its legs together and scraping his palate. He'd like to spit it out, but the centipede is a part of him and he will have to tear it out with his own hands. And a crowd of things will appear for which people will have to find new names, stone eye, great three cornered arm, toe crutch, spider jaw. — Jean-Paul Sartre