Quotes & Sayings About Ww2 Veterans

I can't exactly describe it, but as I looked at the putt, the hole looked as big as a wash tub, I suddenly became convinced I couldn't miss. All I tried to do was keep the sensation by not questioning it. — Jack Fleck

We should love others truly, for their own sakes rather than our own. — Thomas Aquinas

The boy everyone sees but nobody knows is with the girl who everybody knows but nobody sees. There's — Katie McGarry

The writing of a novel is taking life as it already exists, not to report it but to make an object, toward the end that the finished work might contain this life inside it and offer it to the reader. The essence will not be, of course, the same thing as the raw material; it is not even of the same family of things. The novel is something that never was before and will not be again. — Eudora Welty

I'm all for guys being butch and guys being men. I identify with that and appreciate that. But if I'm going to stab my gay brother in the back who isn't butch and who maybe acts a little bit more effeminate, what good is that? — Kyan Douglas

Nothing in life was as precious as this woman. It never would be. I'd found my happiness. — Abbi Glines

The projector's beam lay warm on Walt's neck, and he knew they'd all been plucked from danger and love, from another time, another place, and set back into this dark, sticky-floored theater, in the heart of nothing much that mattered. — Alan Heathcock

I've missed so much. Like the day you opened your flower shop or how you came up with the name Whimsicality. I missed the day you brought Noah into this world and saw him for the first time. I missed your late-night cravings and his midnight feedings. I'll never forgive myself for not being there, Josie. — Heidi McLaughlin

Declan paused then, sighing, as if the weight of the story was a tangible thing, and he needed to take a moment to regain his strength. — Maggie Stiefvater

There's something about evening service in a country church that makes a fellow feel drowsy and peaceful. Sort of end-of-a-perfect-day feeling. Old Heppenstall was up in the pulpit, and he has a kind of regular, bleating delivery that assists thought. They had left the door open, and the air was full of a mixed scent of trees and honeysuckle and mildew and villagers' Sunday clothes. As far as the eye could reach, you could see farmers propped up in restful attitudes, breathing heavily; and the children in the congregation who had fidgeted during the earlier part of the proceedings were now lying back in a surfeited sort of coma. The last rays of the setting sun shone through the stained-glass windows, birds were twittering in the trees, the women's dresses crackled gently in the stillness. Peaceful. That's what I'm driving at. I felt peaceful. Everybody felt peaceful. — P.G. Wodehouse