Vinnaithandi Varuvaya Film Images With Quotes & Sayings

It was in 1942 and I flew from St. Louis to Mexico City. I had just gotten married and we were on our honeymoon. I hit .397 and led the Mexican League with 20 home runs and was named the MVP of the league. It's when I realized I could compete with anyone at any level. — Monte Irvin

It represented a world I didn't know, the opposite of where I was - and I hated where I was. I hated the poverty, the cigarette smoke, the drug use, the embarrassment, the loneliness. And Diana Ross was promising me that there was a world that wasn't stained with sadness and resignation. Somewhere there was a world that was sensual and robotic and hypnotic. And clean. — Moby

Let me tell you the truth: The truth is what is. And what should be is a fantasy a terrible, terrible lie that someone gave the people long ago. — Lenny Bruce

The Maestro spoke again. "When we are not, at what point do we become?"
I could not reply. For I had grasped no shape of his thoughts. I understood neither what he said nor his intent behind it. — Theresa Breslin

Girls have white wings. The wings with which to protect their loved ones. I'm going to embrace you with those wings. — Kaori Yuki

Smite," she asked softly, "do you have any idea what to say to me in a situation like this?"
"Of course I do," he retorted. "I have plenty of ideas." He met her gaze ruefully. "Of course, they're all wrong, and so I'm totally at sea."
She patted the cushion next to her. He crossed the room and lowered himself down. And then, because he didn't seem inclined to do it himself, she picked up his hand and slid it around her shoulders. — Courtney Milan

It is not a belly button. (The umbilicus serves, then withdraws, leaving but a single footprint where it stood: the navel, wrinkled and cupped, whorled and domed, blind and winking, bald and tufted, sweaty and powdered, kissed and bitten, waxed and fuzzy, bejeweled and ignored; reflecting as graphically as breasts, seeds or fetishes the omnipotent fertility in which Nature dangles her muddy feet, the navel looks in like a plugged keyhole to the center of our being, it is true, but O navel, though we salute your motionless maternity and the dreams that have gotten tangled in your lint, you are only a scar, after all; you are not it.) — Tom Robbins