Tarkan Dudu Quotes & Sayings

LUKE Alas, poor stormtrooper, I knew ye not, Yet have I ta'en both uniform and life From thee. What manner of a man wert thou? A man of inf'nite jest or cruelty? A man with helpmate and with children too? A man who hath his Empire serv'd with pride? — Ian Doescher

People expect old men to die, They do not really mourn old men. Old men are different. People look At them with eyes that wonder when ... People watch with unshocked eyes; But the old men know when an old man dies. — Ogden Nash

Both our opinions are rooted in our experience," I said. "Both of them are true, it's just that we've had different experiences. — Robert B. Parker

Insofar as a purely transient construction of flesh and blood can remember (or foretell) what it is to be stone, Lucy understood the mountain's wish to listen at the window of a den of gamblers and be warmed by all that free-floating hope and desolation. — Helen Oyeyemi

Even if Bush could be forgiven for taking America, and much of the rest of the world, to war on false pretenses, and for misrepresenting the cost of the venture, there is no excuse for how he chose to finance it. His was the first war in history paid for entirely on credit. As America went into battle, with deficits already soaring from his 2001 tax cut, Bush decided to plunge ahead with yet another round of tax relief for the wealthy. — Joseph Stiglitz

Dining out is a vice, a dissipation of spirit punished by remorse. We eat, drink, and talk a little too much, abuse all our friends, belch out our literary preferences and are egged on by accomplices in the audience to acts of mental exhibitionism. Such evenings cannot fail to diminish those who take part in them. They end on Monkey Hill. — Cyril Connolly

You hide a Sun-powered device in darkness - only if you want to know when it is brought out into the light. In other words, the monolith may be some kind of alarm. And we have triggered it. — Arthur C. Clarke

Pain is truth; all else is subject to doubt. — J.M. Coetzee

Most contemporary novelists, especially the American and the French, are too subjective, mesmerized by private demons; theyre enraptured by their navels and confined by a view that ends with their own toes. — Truman Capote