Updikes Separating Quotes & Sayings

He had made his choice while he dug Dobby's grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. — J.K. Rowling

The conditions which now exist in Germany make it impossible for industrial production to reach the levels which the occupying powers agreed were essential for a minimum German peacetime economy. — James F. Byrnes

I don't know where to put whales. I'm sticking them here, but I don't have any reason for it. — George Gaylord Simpson

It took me a couple years to get over the stereotype I was letting myself get caught up on, being a football player trying to start a career in music. — Sam Hunt

One of the cheapest commodities in the world is unfulfilled genius. All of us want to be known as a unique individual, the one who broke out of the pack. So, you offer yourself up as a sacrifice and what you're afraid of is losing and being thrown back into the pack. One question taunts you. Do you want to have, or do you want to be? — Leon Uris

If you needed revenge, you've got it. Every minute that I'm with you knowing that you're not mine is like hydrochloric acid in a razor cut. — Connie Bailey

The final stretch of drive ended at a small cottage nestled in a grove of ancient live oaks. The weathered structure, with chipping paint and shutters that had begun to blacken at the edges, was fronted by a small stone porch framed by white columns. Over the years, one of the columns had become enshrouded in vines, which climbed toward the roof. A metal chair sat at the edge, and at one corner of the porch, adding color to the world of green, was a small pot of blooming geraniums.
But their eyes were drawn inevitably to the wildflowers. Thousands of them, a meadow of fireworks stretching nearly to the steps of the cottage, a sea of red and orange and purple and blue and yellow nearly waist deep, rippling in the gentle breeze. Hundreds of butterflies flitted about the meadow, tides of moving color undulating in the sun. — Nicholas Sparks

Nostalgia is missing what might come back. — Will Advise