Spajdermen Quotes & Sayings

Cordings make the best Covert coats, corduroys, moleskins and all the accoutrements. When I need a covert coat I get it from Cordings rather than make one myself and I'm a tailor so I should know! Cordings is without doubt, the best at what they do; they produce a quality which surpasses any other company of its kind in Britain. — Mark Powell

I am not a person of faith. I'm a Catholic. I was brought up Catholic, but I'm not a church-going sort of girl. I'm very spiritual. I pray every night. I believe in Heaven and Hell, but I'm not a person that goes to church, like, every Sunday. — Cristina Saralegui

Make me famous, okay? he said, brightly. Maybe I'll finally get some free coffee around here. — Amanda Palmer

I was, a near grown man, sat in his dank, dark and rickety digs, feverishly hovering about the glare of a computer screen like a disorientated moth, one searching for a flaming light of recognition from someone/anyone! — Tom Conrad

One of the laws of paleontology is that an animal which must protect itself with thick armour is degenerate. It is usually a sign that the species is on the road to extinction. — John Steinbeck

We all just need to be real. That is what will save us. — A.D. Posey

The more you learn, the harder the lessons get. — Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Your God loves your people and hates mine; he folds his strong arms lovingly around the white man and leads him as a father leads his infant son, but he has forsaken his red children; he makes your people wax strong every day, and soon they will fill the land; while my people are ebbing away like a fast-receding tide, that will never flow again. The white man's God cannot love his red children or he would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. — Chief Seattle

It looks like something out of Whittier's "Snowbound,"' Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say. — Maud Hart Lovelace

Outside the window, there slides past that unimaginable and deserted vastness where night is coming on, the sun declining in ghastly blood-streaked splendour like a public execution across, it would seem, half a continent, where live only bears and shooting stars and the wolves who lap congealing ice from water that holds within it the entire sky. All white with snow as if under dustsheets, as if laid away eternally as soon as brought back from the shop, never to be used or touched. Horrors! And, as on a cyclorama, this unnatural spectacle rolls past at twenty-odd miles an hour in a tidy frame of lace curtains only a little the worse for soot and drapes of a heavy velvet of dark, dusty blue. — Angela Carter