Weidenaar Watercolor Quotes & Sayings

Andrew put a finger to the underside of Neil's chin and forced Neil's head up until they were looking at each other. "On that day you're not going to run. You're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call. Tell me you understand." Neil's — Nora Sakavic

I wanted to double-check with you that your mailing address is still the same as the one you sent us back in April? If you're a college student I know address changes are really common at this time of year! — Marilynne Robinson

England has the most sordid literary scene I've ever seen. They all meet in the same pub. This guy's writing a foreword for this person. They all have to give radio programs, they have to do all this just in order to scrape by. They're all scratching each other's backs. — William S. Burroughs

Is achieving a meaningful sustainability of all vitally essential life systems for all future generations, wholly dependent upon recognizing our plain obligation as the sole keeper species? — Lee Kierig

The bourgeoisie incites the workers of one nation against those of another in the endeavor to keep them disunited. — Vladimir Lenin

Canadians know that our difficulties will not be resolved overnight. They are tired of politicians who pretend they will be. — Kim Campbell

When our lips touched the day closed
into a coffin. In the museum of the heart... — Ocean Vuong

Any play, I'm ready for all the plays, ... That's the whole thing ... Any time I can get out and show I can do this, do those type of things, I'm going to do it. It was just fun, being able to run and get down the field. Just run, do what I do. — Ron Dayne

A Hot Fudge Sundae and a trashy novel is my idea of heaven. — Barbara Walters

Think of a field of daisies: they bloom, they wither, and in the spring they grow again. Who wants to see the same stupid daisy year after year, especially with a bunch of crappy iron-lung-type equipment bolted to it? — Rudy Rucker

There are so many characters whizzing around inside my head, it's like Looney Tunes. But as soon as I've finished writing about them, I completely forget who they are. — Peter Ackroyd

On a distant battlefield, somewhere in the Middle East, Sergeant Jackson is sick of this fucking war and stands up from behind the trench he's hiding in, ignores the pleas of his squad mates to get down and starts to play the electric guitar he's insisted he bring into battle with him. He plays a song: his father's favourite. He's spent years learning it and he thinks it's beautiful. The first bullet kills him. Someone takes a picture as he falls. A dying soldier clutching his electric guitar. — Pleasefindthis