Uzbek And Rica Persian Letters Quotes & Sayings

I suppose it's a compliment that I'm on level with your horse. — Ruth Cardello

Be impeccable with your words — Miguel Ruiz

Being yourself is fun because you're one of a kind and no one else can be you. — Christian Coma

By building relations we create a source of love and personal pride and belonging that makes living in a chaotic world easier. — Susan Lieberman

I'm a devoted husband. That must strike you as totally deviant. — Iain Banks

We have been happily borne - or perhaps have unhappily dragged our weary way - down the long and crooked streets of our lives, past all kinds of walls and fences made of rotting wood, rammed earth, brick, concrete, iron railings. We have never given a thought to what lies behind them. We have never tried to penetrate them with our vision or our understanding. But there is where the Gulag country begins, right next to us, two yards away from us. In addition, we have failed to notice an enormous number of closely fitted, well-disguised doors and gates in these fences. All those gates were prepared for us, every last one! And all of a sudden the fateful gate swings quickly open, and four white male hands, unaccustomed to physical labor but nonetheless strong and tenacious, grab us by the leg, arm, collar, cap, ear, and drag us in like a sack, and the gate behind us, the gate to our past life, is slammed shut once and for all.
That's all there is to it! You are arrested! — Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

And I promise myself then, in that moment, that I will hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain and torture and suffering is gone, until he's given a chance to live the kind of life where no one can wound him this deeply ever again.
And we are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives we did not choose.
It's time, I think, to break free. — Tahereh Mafi

Great Representation of the Art and Use of Fencing, written by the Italian maestro Ridolfo Capo Ferro — Cary Elwes

The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men. — Raymond Chandler

I keep going back as if I'm looking for something I have lost. Back to the motherland, sisterland, fatherland. Back to the beacon, the breast, the smell and taste of the breeze, and the singing of the rain. — Heather Nova