Vajdahunyad Quotes & Sayings

Money and writing appear to be mutually exclusive. — Rita Mae Brown

Through the potent example of his own life, President Obama enabled us to believe the best about America, and, therefore, about ourselves. That uplifting narrative - essentially equating the promise of America with his extraordinary life story - swept candidate Obama into the presidency. — Cynthia P. Schneider

People always say to me
"What do you think you'd like to be
When you grow up?"
And I say, "Why,
I think I'd like to be the sky
Or be a plane or train or mouse
Or maybe a haunted house
Or something furry, rough and wild...
Or maybe I will stay a child. — Karla Kuskin

Compare yourself to yourself and say, 'How can I be better? How can I be the real me?' — Carson Kressley

It is well for a man when he has learned to endure what he cannot change, and to give up with dignity what he cannot retain. — Friedrich Schiller

The shiny paint laid on by curiosity's hand has worn off. What thing better can a man know than the love of Christ, which passes knowledge? — Jim Elliot

I hate it when my hair is engaged in unauthorized activities. — Paula Poundstone

The bitch from hell?" Ian offered and immediately moved out of his wife's reach. "She doesn't like me, baby. She calls me Satan. It hurts my feelings. — Lexi Blake

I kiss him deeply, desperately, as I paw at his clothes, and he tolerates it for a moment. Just a moment. Long enough for me to unbutton his shirt. In a blink, his hand snatches ahold of my wrists, pinning them together, pinning them down to the bed above my head. Pulling back some, he looks me in the eyes.
He says nothing.
He just stares.
Studying me again.
It's almost a minute, as I count the torturous seconds in my head. It should been awkward, but it isn't. It's erotic. His gaze penetrates me, effectively fucking my soul. — J.M. Darhower

Martin thought of the iron El trestles winding and stretching across the city, of department store windows and hotel lobbies, of electric elevators and street-car ads, of the city pressing its way north on both sides of the great park, of dynamos and electric lights, of ten-story hotels, of the old iron tower near the depot at West Brighton with its two steam-driven elevators rising and falling in the sky
and in his blood he felt a surge of restlessness, as if he were a steam train spewing fiery coal smoke into the black night sky as he roared along a trembling El track, high above the dark storefronts, the gaslit saloons, the red-lit doorways, the cheap beer dives, the dance halls, the gambling joints, the face in the doorway, the sudden cry in the night. — Steven Millhauser