Sverdlovsk Regional Museum Quotes & Sayings

When a regular person gets sick, they take an aspirin. When a writer gets sick, they take notes ... — Chuck Palahniuk

There's little in taking or giving, There's little in water or wine: This living, this living, this living, Was never a project of mine. Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is The gain of the one at the top, For art is a form of catharsis, And love is a permanent flop, And work is the province of cattle, And rest's for a clam in a shell, So I'm thinking of throwing the battle - Would you kindly direct me to hell? — Dorothy Parker

Of all the ways people save time, I think racism is the worst. — Anthony Jeselnik

I realize that this is not what you want to put on a cover with Wonder Woman emblazoned on it. She could be in trouble, but she doesn't need to be completely out of control. So whenever I'm doing these covers, I try to make sure that there's an element where, even if there is danger, it's not something where agency is taken away from her. — Cliff Chiang

I think people are getting bored of parties, and hosts are terrified nobody's going to show up. So they have to start entertaining them before the party even starts. — Jerry Della Femina

How important is the heart! It is there that character is formed. It alone holds the secrets of true success. It's treasures are priceless - but they can be stolen. — Charles R. Swindoll

Define what the product will do before you design how the product will do it. — Alan Cooper

A writer will seal his own coffin,
And the interests of readers will soften,
If the author insists
On the usual twists,
And he goes to the Wells once too often. — Mark Grenier

And Finally I put down the last and the best advice I knew, on growing older. 'Stand up straight and try not to get fat. — Diana Gabaldon

Always, when Cleve had tried to reach somewhere else, something else, Ardis had stripped him of the possibility - like a pine tree being stripped of its branches. The episode last night was different, though, for Ardis had finally penetrated Cleve's protective bark. His brother had exposed the hideous knotholes left by past limb stripping, and had caused Cleve to leak resinous tears. What was he now? Another tree unfit for ever becoming the mast of a great ship? Was his brother to be blamed? Wasn't he himself the one who had allowed this to happen? Cleve — Gaylier Miller