Uraniborg Inc Quotes & Sayings

My wound existed before; I was born to embody it. — Joe Bousquet

Fluttered open as she felt something brushing across her lips. She blinked several times to see Vasile's handsome face — Quinn Loftis

Saddam Hussein wrote the book on human rights violations. — Curt Weldon

What are you, my father now?"

"No, but I'm someone who will always love you."

"Always?" I question, because even without jealousy, my relationship with Flynn was bound to hurt him.

"Forever. — Shannon Dermott

If Nixon were a Republican senator today, he would have been primaried out. — Harry Shearer

I like the anthology concept. I wish more shows would do it. — Hank Stuever

For those [observations] that I made in Leipzig in my youth and up to my 21st year, I usually call childish and of doubtful value. Those that I took later until my 28th year [i.e., until 1574] I call juvenile and fairly serviceable. The third group, however, which I made at Uraniborg during approximately the last 21 years with the greatest care and with very accurate instruments at a more mature age, until I was fifty years of age, those I call the observations of my manhood, completely valid and absolutely certain, and this is my opinion of them. — Tycho Brahe

Reason, then, goes to work only after it has been supplied with a suitable set of inputs, or premises. If reason is to be applied to discovering and choosing courses of action, then those inputs include, at the least, a set of should's, or values to be achieved, and a set of is's, or facts about the world in which the action is to be taken. Any attempt to justify these should's and is's by logic will simply lead to a regress to new should's and is's that are similarly postulated. — Herbert Simon

Actors are always nervous about not only hurting each other, but maybe perhaps hitting each other's face and ending one's career. — Bryce Dallas Howard

I used to listen to the radio, and when I was about 18 years old, B.B. King was a disc jockey and he had a radio program, 15 minutes a day, over in West Memphis, Arkansas, and he would play the blues. — Koko Taylor

Friday beneath the sky, its little postcards of melancholy
Outside each window,
the engines inside the roses at half speed,
The huge page of the sea with its one word despair,
Fuchsia blossoms littered across the deck,
Unblotted tide pools of darkness beneath the ferns ...
And still I go on looking,
match after match in the black air. — Charles Wright