Strangeling Book Quotes & Sayings

Uncountable the number off breaths I've taken for granted in my life. — Rebecca Wells

Pay attention to your dreams; when you go on a trip, in your dreams you will still be home. Then after you've come home you'll dream of where you were. It's a kind of jet lag of the consciousness. — Barbara Kingsolver

A sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her. — Virginia Woolf

In states where no regulation exists, anyone is permitted to perform medical imaging and radiation therapy procedures, sometimes after just a few weeks of on-the-job training. — Charles W. Pickering

I lose him at the exact moment that I finally admit I've fallen for him. — Allie Brennan

Horrible types, specialists in the One, builders of middle-class castles, and upper-class Usher houses, writers of boring Commencement speeches, creepy otherworldly types, worse than Pope Paul, academics who resembled gray jars, and who would ruin a whole state like Tennessee if put into it; people totally unable to merge into the place where they live
they could live in a valley for years and never become the valley — Robert Bly

Improvising is wonderful. But, the thing is that you cannot improvise unless you know exactly what you're doing. That's a kind of paradoxical thing about improvising. — Christopher Walken

The more Mommy blogs going nuclear over playground etiquette I read and birthday parties of glazed adults munching cupcakes like demoralized zombies I attend, I realize this is what my friends who conceived before me meant by, 'You just won't care.' — Emma McLaughlin

That's how you came here, like a star without a name. Move across the night sky with those anonymous lights. — Rumi

And whenever they came back to his lips, these exquisite, funereal laments conjured up, in his mind, a place on the outskirts of a city, a mean and voiceless place where silently, in the distance, lines of men and women, wearied and bowed down by life, were disappearing into the twilight, while he himself, surfeited with bitterness and replete with disgust, felt himself alone, utterly alone, in the midst of a tearful Nature, overwhelmed by an inexpressible melancholy, by a relentless anguish, the mysterious intensity of which precluded all consolation, all pity, all repose. — Joris-Karl Huysmans