Ymha Inwood Quotes & Sayings

He had come to us only three years earlier, but had already won general sympathy, mainly because he "knew how to bring society together." His house was never without guests, and it seemed he would have been unable to live without them. He had to have guests to dinner every day, even if only two, even if only one, but without guests he would not sit down to eat. He gave formal dinners, too, under all sorts of pretexts, sometimes even the most unexpected. The food he served, though not refined, was abundant, the cabbage pies were excellent, and the wines made up in quantity for what they lacked in quality. In the front room stood a billiard table, surrounded by quite decent furnishings; that is, there were even paintings of English racehorses in black frames on the walls, which, as everyone knows, constitute a necessary adornment of any billiard room in a bachelor's house. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Enlightenment is like everyday consciousness but two inches above the ground. — D.T. Suzuki

I've been giving the evil in this world too much power and God too little. — Debbie Viguie

I was moving briskly. Well, until I realized I had a crazy lady chasing after me. Then I started to run. — Jen Turano

There is no such thing as an ideal man. The ideal man is the man you love at the moment. — Francoise Sagan

Gold and silver from the dead turn often into lead. — R. Buckminster Fuller

Focus can become an obsession ... But your ability to sustain the drive to focus will depend upon how enjoyable and productive it is. So create an environment that makes you want to remain focused. — Mani S. Sivasubramanian

Life,' thought Septimus, ... 'you could never trust the bastard. What it gives with one hand, it takes away with the other. — M.L. Stedman

Courage isn't something you can conjure, it's either in you or it's not. — Vikki Wakefield

Forgiveness. The ability to forgive oneself. Stop here for a few breaths and think about this because it is the key to making art, and very possibly the key to finding any semblance of happiness in life. Every time I have set out to translate the book (or story, or hopelessly long essay) that exists in such brilliant detail on the big screen of my limbic system onto a piece of paper (which, let's face it, was once a towering tree crowned with leaves and a home to birds). I grieve for my own lack of talent and intelligence. Every. Single. Time. Were I smarter, more gifted, I could pin down a closer facsimile of the wonders I see. I believe, more than anything, that this grief of constantly having to face down our own inadequacies is what keeps people from being writers. Forgiveness, therefore, is key. I can't write the book I want to write, but I can and will write the book I am capable of writing. Again and again throughout the course of my life I will forgive myself. — Ann Patchett