Verdeyen Landen Quotes & Sayings

To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. — Edgar Lee Masters

Strange are the ways of history, where no single thing abides, but all things flow into each other, fragment to fragment clinging ... — Han Suyin

Talking of being eaten by dogs, there's a dachshund at Brinkley who when you first meet him will give you the impression that he plans to convert you into a light snack between his regular meals. Pay no attention. It's all eyewash. His belligerent attitude is simply - "
Sound and fury signifying nothing, sir?"
That's it. Pure swank. A few civil words, and he will be grappling you ... What's the expression I've heard you use?"
Grappling me to his soul with hoops of steel, sir?"
In the first two minutes. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but he has to put up a front because his name's Poppet. One can readily appreciate that when a dog hears himself addressed day in and day out as Poppet, he feels he must throw his weight about. Is self-respect demands it."
Precisely, sir."
You'll like Poppet. Nice dog. Wears his ears inside out. Why do dachshunds wear their ears inside out?"
I could not say, sir."
Nor me. I've often wondered. — P.G. Wodehouse

Even the pluckiest among us has but seldom the courage of what he really knows. — Friedrich Nietzsche

They say what doesn't kill the soul will make you stronger, but you can't be a stone-hearted man. — Anthony Green

This cult seems like it might have been designed specifically to prey on bookish old people - Scientology for scholarly seniors. — Robin Sloan

Who loves - lives, who lives - works, and who works has some bread. — Irving Stone

When the full-grown poet came,
Out spake pleased Nature (the round impassive globe, with all
its shows of day and night,) saying, He is mine;
But out spake too the Soul of man, proud, jealous and unreconciled,
Nay, he is mine alone;
- Then the full-grown poet stood between the two, and took each by the hand;
And to-day and ever so stands, as blender, uniter, tightly holding hands,
Which he will never release until he reconciles the two,
And wholly and joyously blends them. — Walt Whitman

The pretence that numbers are not the humble creation of man, but are the exacting language of the Universe and therefore possess the secret of all things, is comforting, terrifying and mesmeric. — Peter Greenaway