Warabihada Quotes & Sayings

Gotta love speaking to the mother. What a unique and adorable woman. — Gregg Sulkin

Afterward, he would leave her, and he would go to sleep in his own home. "It's hard to understand," he would tell Lila whenever she would press his gently on the subject, "but with us Arabs, a man can come and go, and his wife will not say a word. She'll notice the length of his absences, but she won't press him or ask for explanations. For his part, so long as he acts modestly and doesn't show off his lover in plain view, then he will not bring shame on his family. — Anat Talshir

Kissing her
is warm wet
dangerous magic.
Her mouth
conjures
a storm
inside me. — Kirk Diedrich

Sheet music, recording, radio, television, cassettes, CD burners, and file sharing have all invalidated, to some extent, the old model of making a living making music. — Kent Beck

He glided to Jane, took her face in his papery hands, kissed her lightly on her full lips, and then floated back a step. — Stephenie Meyer

History is written by the winners. The books say the Indians were bad guys and the whites just needed a little land. It's like, Excuse me, let me take your car. I'm discovering it. I'm putting my flag on your windshield. — Mario Van Peebles

Earth fell," said the Surgeon, "because the Will required us to atone for the sin our ancestors committed when they treated your ancestors like beasts. The quality of our poetry had nothing to do with it. — Robert Silverberg

I own with reason: for, if men but knew
Some fixed end to ills, they would be strong
By some device unconquered to withstand
Religions and the menacings of seers. — Lucretius

I don't know how well I can fight, or run, or judge, but when the blade comes, I swear on whatever they want me to swear on, I'll stop it, with my body if nothing else. — Sebastien De Castell

So let me get this straight. Government can't track illegals and out of date visas, but they know who you called this morning? — Chuck Woolery

This is not to say there are not Chicagoans. But I would suggest that they are a nomadic people, whose lost home exists only in their minds, and in the glowing crystal memory cells they all carry in the palms of their hands: a great idea of a second city, lit with life and love, reasonable drink prices at cool bars, and, of course, blocks and blocks of bright and devastating fire. — John Hodgman