Szentendre T Rk P Quotes & Sayings

Instead of thinking outside the box, get rid of the box. — Deepak Chopra

Old age, especially an honored old age, has so great authority, that this is of more value than all the pleasures of youth. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

There is nothing that's greater than the word of God because it washes off our sins. — Abdulazeez Henry Musa

No, my eldest brother. He was named after our father. Our parents died when the Romans first invaded, and Stephano then became the "head of the family". " She grimaced. "He and I are like oil and water. Or we were. We get along well enough now, though." She grinned. "But boy did he pitch a fit over the concubine thing. He even called in Uncle Lucian to deal with me."

Harper's eyebrows rose. "I'm surprised Lucian bothered to intervene."

..."Yes, well..." Drina grimaced. "I'm afraid while I was een as a concubine, I was really playing puppet master with my lover and kind of ruling the country though him. At least until Uncle Lucian caught wind of it and came to give me hell. — Lynsay Sands

You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don't help. — Bill Watterson

I do most of my business on that dirty Internet that you were just talking about, where I find there is a lot of freedom to report exactly what I want. — Matt Drudge

It is as if producing a creative work tears a piece from your soul. When it is ripped completely free of you, the wound must bleed for a while. How similar it is to letting go of a dream, your hope, or your heart's desire. You must open up and let it drain. — Lynn Cullen

The qualities of an exceptional cook are akin to those of a successful tightrope walker: an abiding passion for the task, courage to go out on a limb and an impeccable sense of balance. — Bryan Q. Miller

We stared out at the city that hummed and glittered like a computer chip deep in some unknowable machine, holding its secret like a poker hand — Janet Fitch

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.
While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart. — Sylvia Plath

There is a formal poetry perfect only in form?the number of syllables, the designated and required stresses of accent, the rhymes if wantedthey come off with the skill of a solved crossword puzzle. — Carl Sandburg

We burned the midnight oil making love, even if it was just kissing and touching, for hours. It could be a single candle, Fourth of July fireworks, or anything in between. — L.A. Witt