Torolf Rein Quotes & Sayings

I have never liked bargains when it came to sex. — Hedy Lamarr

In silvergreen rainy April they went down to Glastonbury on the long straight roads ... — John Crowley

But how do we know it's really you? I mean, I could put a saucepan on my head and call myself the God of Boiled Dumplings; wouldn't mean I was telling the truth. — K.J. Parker

Writing a song isn't that hard. Writing a good song is difficult. Let's face it, we're faced with taking a complex feeling or event, making words rhyme and saying exactly what we want them to say in a short amount of time ... the primary reason for keeping it short and to the point is to be certain that you're not boring your audience. — Ann Reed

So many wicked ways to scandal-skin a cat. — James Ellroy

When people ask the Dalai Lama, "Is Buddhism a religion?" he answers, "Yes, it is." Then they ask, "What kind of religion is it?" He responds, "My religion is kindness." You might think, "Everyone's is." Everyone's is. That's true. It's not complicated to describe the goal of a spiritual life. It's easier than you think to explain it. It's more difficult than you can imagine to do it. — Sylvia Boorstein

Merry started and shook her head. No, even if the man were naked and in her shower right now, she could never just climb in there and start manhandling him. Not even in a fantasy. Because what she'd really do is screw up the courage to slip into the shower naked, and then she'd stand there awkwardly while he soaped himself. She'd probably crack a joke. Then make an excuse about how crowded it was and just slip away. — Victoria Dahl

A romantic painting shows a heap of icy debris in a polar light; no man, no object inhabits this desolate space; but for this very reason, provided I am suffering an amorous sadness, this void requires that I fling myself into it; I project myself as a tiny figure, seated on a block of ice, abandoned forever. "I'm cold," the lover says, "Iet's go back"; but there is no road, no way, the boat is wrecked. There is a coldness particular to the lover, the chilliness of the child (or of any young animal) that needs maternal warmth. — Roland Barthes

Poetry is a storm asking peace to dance with her. — Jenim Dibie