Ultrasuede Sofa Quotes & Sayings

It nods and curtseys and recovers
When the wind blows above,
The nettle on the graves of lovers
That hanged themselves for love.
The nettle nods, the wind blows over,
The man, he does not move,
The lover of the grave, the lover
That hanged himself for love. — A.E. Housman

God is often silent when we prefer that he speak and he interrupts us when we prefer that he stay silent. His ways are not our ways. To live with the sacred God of creation means that we conduct our lives with a God who does not explain himself to us. It means that we worship a God who is often mysterious - too mysterious to fit our formulas for better living. It means that God is not our best friend our secret lover or our good-luck charm. He is God. — Craig S. Barnes

you are
yesterday's
bouquet so sadly
raided — Charles Bukowski

If Sally had been in an accident or come down with some overtly physical disease, I would not hesitate to tell him about it, confident that his sympathies would flow in my direction as a matter of course. But psychosis defies empathy; few people who have not experienced it up close buy the idea of a behavioral disease. It has the ring of an excuse, a license for self-absorption on the most extreme scale. It suggests that one chooses madness and not the other way around. (86) — Michael Greenberg

Yeah," Violet says from where she's stooped on the floor. "But those weren't family tears." Whitney rakes her fingers through Hadley's hair. "What were they, then." "Those were boy tears," Violet says with a smile. — Jennifer E. Smith

Social awkwardness is not a sin, in defense of liberty. — Matt Kibbe

I think it's what art should do: make you feel less alone - either in the quest for truth or in dealing with any pain you have. — Brendan Gleeson

As he glided stealthily along, creeping beneath the shelter of the walls and doorways, the hideous old man seemed like some loathsome reptile, engendered in the slime and darkness through which he moved: crawling forth, by night, in search of some rich offal for a meal. — Charles Dickens