Tartuffe Playwright Quotes & Sayings

In the end, Cole St. Clair had done what he did best. Disappeared. — Maggie Stiefvater

Presumably the car at the gate was Matt, the man who would work over Priss, head to toes. Even from a distance, Matt looked flamboyant with bleached-blond hair, dark shades and a purple convertible.
It was unreasonable and it made little sense, but because he'd be working on Priss, Trace disliked him on sight. — Lori Foster

A psychologist would probably diagnose insanity for a nation that spends more on its military than the next 8 nations combined, while its poor are starving. — Steven Magee

Sunset Boulevard opened in August 1950, and it was pronounced the best movie ever made about Hollywood. — Gloria Swanson

For Rose of Sharon was pregnant and careful. Her hair, braided and wrapped around her head, made an ash-blond crown. Her round soft face, which had been voluptuous and inviting a few months ago, had already put on the barrier of pregnancy, the self-sufficient smile, the knowing perfection-look; and her plump body - full soft breasts and stomach, hard hips and buttocks that had swung so freely and provocatively as to invite slapping and stroking - her whole body had become demure and serious. Her whole thought and action were directed inward on the baby. She balanced on her toes now, for the baby's sake. And the world was pregnant to her; she thought only in terms of reproduction and of motherhood. — John Steinbeck

For a second his dark eyes are on mine, and he's quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his. The river roars and I feel its spray on my ankles. He grins and presses his mouth to mine. I tense up at first, unsure of myself, so when he pulls away, I'm sure I did something wrong, or badly. But he takes my face in his hands, his fingers strong against my skin, and kisses me again, firmer this time, more certain. I wrap an arm around him, sliding my hand up his neck and into his short hair. — Veronica Roth

We're talking about the struggle to drag a thought over from the mush of the unconscious into some kind of grammar, syntax, human sense; every attempt means starting over with language. starting over with accuracy. — Anne Carson

Democracy is not an end in itself, but a means to achieve the sacred promises of human dignity, justice and peace — Alfred-Maurice De Zayas

Sometimes she wishes she could return to the naive happiness of their life. But mostly, she aches to go forward, to a place her body doesn't seem willing to take her. — Shilpi Somaya Gowda

In the past, NASDAQ has defended flash orders. — Charles Duhigg

How silently the world revolved, when one was brooding, and alone. — Eleanor Catton

Shake the tree of life itself and bring down fruits unheard of. — Edwin Arlington Robinson