Vargyasi Szabolcs Quotes & Sayings

I need to be whole again. Even if it doesn't last."
"It can't last," she said, staring at him, because how could it, when they could never keep what they had? "It'll break our hearts."
He caught her by the wrist, brought her hand to his bare chest. Splayed her fingers over his heart. It beat against her palm, like a fist punching its way through his sternum. "Break my heart," he said. "Break it in pieces. I give you permission. — Cassandra Clare

Estragon: Suppose we repented. Vladimir: Repented what? Estragon: Oh ... (He reflects.) We wouldn't have to go into the details. Vladimir: Our being born? — Samuel Beckett

Noah drew me closer to him. "It's okay. I've got you. — Katie McGarry

The recession, which started in 2007, is ongoing. The
underlying fundamental causes of the meltdown have not been
addressed. Banks are still not lending. Companies are still not hiring.
Congress has still not seriously addressed the growing debt. Neither
has Congress checked its own out-of-control spending. The much
lauded reforms installed by Frank-Dodd are nothing more than another
expansion of federal government control over the engines of wealth
creation. — Ziad K. Abdelnour

My body would cry
from all it felt
and all it couldn't. — David Levithan

The museum is full of interesting things. All kinds of paintings are there. And then paintings too thick to put in a frame, that they call sculpture. And then there are spectators. with their scorecards, rooting for culture. And spectators of the spectators, looking for love's introduction. And art students taking notes. And old women trying to remember the past. And old men with too much to forget. And tourists, thinking that a museum represents a city. And loafers so poor, they study their soberness here. — Marvin L. Cohen

I don't read them; I just hit "accept." iTunes may own my ovaries, for all I know. — Mindy Kaling

Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the anonymous roller that pressed upon my life a certain intricate watermark whose unique design becomes visible when the lamp of art is made to shine through life's foolscap. — Vladimir Nabokov