Timber Timbre Quotes & Sayings

Sometimes I think that when we say our honour prevents us from doing this or
that we deceive ourselves, and our real motive is vanity. — W. Somerset Maugham

Poverty possesses this disease; through want it teaches a man evil. — Euripides

Try squeezing a handful of water, and see how quickly it disappears. But relax and let your hand flow in the same water, and you have the experience of the water as long as you like ... — Wayne Dyer

I think the most critical needs of the African-American communities aren't being addressed primarily because of decisions being made by Republican Congressional leaders. — Melissa Harris-Perry

What could me more plausible than a line of reasoning which argues that the explanation of the origin of a system was to achieve an end that has in fact been achieved? — Immanuel Wallerstein

The top players talk more now, and we have more meetings. We're just trying to get things better. But we still need somebody who could make a difference. — Martina Hingis

I don't know - the idea of a specific wine paired with a specific piece of music seems a little far-fetched to me. But maybe I just need to be opened to it. — Mike D

I have no interest in romanticizing poor black people, having been one of them myself in our beloved hometown of Detroit. — Michael Eric Dyson

His increasing reputation, his widening circle of acquaintances, his sense of importance, the growing pressure of absorbing and agreeable work, build up in him a sense of being really at home in earth, which is just what we want. — C.S. Lewis

One book: too much!
Many books: never enough. — Andrei Ludu

I'd want our wedding to be special. I don't have a dress, you don't have a best man, and instead of flowers, we have corpses on poles decorating the front of the house."
"Flowers are on the way, as is my best man, three seamstresses are ready to make any dress you desire, and I'll have the corpses taken down," he replied without missing a beat. — Jeaniene Frost

The yearning sadness of a farewell stole plaintively across her heart as she recalled those sweet sessions when she stood with him in the shadowy upper reaches of the street listening to his murmured tale of woe. She felt that happiness being furtively withdrawn, stolen by sly hands which she could not resist. No longer would he feed the deep longing in her heart; no more could she escape, through him, those bleak lonelinesses which sometimes stole upon her. — Walter Greenwood