Vel Marathi Quotes & Sayings

Wherefore is this? Because our common enemy, the Devil, endeavours with all his might to oppose the intentions of the God-man, Christ. He endeavours to do everything in opposition to what Christ did and does. — John Of Kronstadt

With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks, you've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books. — Bob Dylan

Mere access to the courthouse doors does not by itself assure a proper functioning of the adversary process. — Thurgood Marshall

Bathed in light, submerged in sound and rapt in feeling, the sentient body, at once both perceiver and producer, traces the paths of the world's becoming in the very course of contributing to its ongoing renewal. Here, surely, lies the essence of what it means to dwell. It is, literally to be embarked upon a movement along a way of life. The perceiver-producer is thus a wayfarer, and the mode of production is itself a trail blazed or a path followed. Along such paths, lives are lived, skills developed, observations made and understandings grown. But if this is so, then we can no longer suppose that dwelling is emplaced in quite the way Heidegger imagined, in an opening akin to a clearing in the forest. To be, I would now say, is not to be in place but to be along paths. The path, and not the place, is the primary condition of being, or rather of becoming. — Tim Ingold

You know these love letters mix with whisky, just don't light a match when you kiss me. — Jon Bon Jovi

There's a brief moment when you first wake up, where you have no memories. A blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness. — Candace Bushnell

Start from wherever you are and with whatever you have. Take the first step and let the magic begin. — SuccessCoach Nilesh

I wanted to write a book that maybe had the potential to go beyond the Deadspin and KSK [Kissing Suzy Kolber] readership. — Drew Magary

My brother then bought 1000 Japanese cameras. They all go, "Crick". — Henny Youngman

The heart beneath the breastbone pumping. The blood on its appointed rounds. Life in small places, narrow crannies. In the leaves, the toad's pulse. The delicate cellular warfare in a waterdrop. A dextrocardiac, said the smiling doctor. Your heart's in the right place. Weathershrunk and loveless. The skin drawn and split like an overripe fruit. — Cormac McCarthy

How come you don't work fourteen hours a day? Your great-great-grandparents did. How come you only work the eight-hour day? Four guys got hanged fighting for the eight-hour day for you. — Studs Terkel

The old stage coach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail. The hills were many, and the reins lay loosely in his hands as he lolled back in his seat and extended one foot and leg luxuriously over the dashboard. His brimmed hat of worn felt was well pulled over his eyes, and revolved a quid of tobacco in his left cheek. — Kate Douglas Wiggin

Raffy has this magical, abracadabrical ability to transform all his "ifs" into "whens". — Karen Russell