Ustasha Of Yugoslavia Quotes & Sayings

Love is one of the most subtle blessings that the All-Merciful One has bestowed upon humanity. — Fethullah Gulen

If the thoughts from us had the same balance as colors from our Nature peace was a normal behave in this world. — Jan Jansen

The family is a court of justice which never shuts down for night or day. — Malcolm De Chazal

Life is a child playing round your feet, a tool you hold firmly in your grip, a bench you sit down upon in the evening, in your garden. — Jean Anouilh

It seemed that both had lately had a touch of that pain under the waistband which comes of a sedentary life. — Nikolai Gogol

The joy of a self-giving life
Can neither be measured
Nor be expounded. — Sri Chinmoy

It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was guilty. — Robert Louis Stevenson

One of the greatest indicators of our own spiritual maturity is revealed in how we respond to the weaknesses, the inexperience, and the potentially offensive actions of others. — David A. Bednar

For me, the arts are just an endless source of intelligence, brilliance, imagination, and originality. — Gail Levin

I certainly do not lament the decadence of knight errantry, nor wish to exchange the protection of the laws for that of the doughtiest champion who ever set lance in rest; but I do, in truth, believe that this knightly sensitiveness of honorable feeling is the best antidote to the petty soul-degrading transactions of every-day life, and that the total want of it is one reason why this free-born race care so very little for the vulgar virtue called probity. — Frances Trollope

Isaac sat up in bed and glared at Nathan. I think he wanted to kick him out or smother Nathan with a pillow. Either way, I couldn't blame him. — Ashlan Thomas

Memory, instead of being a duplicate, always present before one's eyes, of the various events of one's life, is rather a void from which at odd moments a chance resemblance enables ones to resuscitate dead recollections, but even then, there are innumerable little details which have not fallen into that potential reservoir of memory, and which will remain for ever unverifiable. — Marcel Proust