Transvaal Ruddervoorde Quotes & Sayings

Drax isn't your average stereotypical soldier/warrior/musclehead. He actually has some depth. It was a character that I wanted to play, not only because I love acting so much, but also, I needed to play to get people to actually take me seriously as an actor and get away from the pro wrestling label. — Dave Bautista

And people like you are the reason we have middle fingers. — Alexandra Bracken

After my first week of no wheat, my stomachaches were gone, my mucous cleared up, and I felt incredibly energetic. My headaches were also less frequent and less severe, and I had lost 3 pounds, most of it swelling and water weight my body had been holding onto as part of its response to the wheat products in my diet. — Daphne Oz

It feels like Scotland." "Have you ever been?" "Mmmm. Twice. Have you?" "No." "You should. It's your roots. You'll be surprised how much they tug at you when you breathe the air in the Highlands or look out at a lowland loch. — Nora Roberts

Its not so much about the shoes, but the person wearing them — Adriana Trigiani

A fellow with the smallest mind is the one who is usually most willing to give someone a piece of it. — Croft M. Pentz

Most women have only to lay eyes on you to want to be doing something for you so badly they can't stand it ... You're always so timid and yet you're funny ... Sometimes you get terribly lonesome and depressed, but that only makes a woman's heart itch all the more for you. — Osamu Dazai

I just started calling myself 'Swamp A-.' Like, I have swamp a- right now. I had major swamp a- because I was wearing these Spanx to hold in my gut ... It's like the bayou up in that region. — Jessica Simpson

It seems to be hard wired into our pleasure centres to move to music. — George C. Marshall

One of the chief values reading history, this is the author, is its capacity to "provoke renegade thoughts". — Andrew Roberts

We are born sad and we die sad, but meanwhile we love bodies whose sad beauty is a miracle. — Mario Benedetti

The street lamps glowed like ripe oranges among the bare boughs. Below in the wet street their globes glimmered down and down, to drown in their own reflections. — Mary Stewart