Famous Quotes Ipsum
Word Lists: Famous Quotes
I am woman, hear me roar! if the truth were to be known, everyone would be wearing a scarlet letter of one form or another. we say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. it never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance. religion is what the individual does with his own solitariness. start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible. all things are possible until they are proved impossible - and even the impossible, may only be so as of now. life moves pretty fast. if you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it. both my wife and daughter think i'm this gigantic loser and they're right.
Action is eloquence. the blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it. all good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath. spending time is inevitable. you're going to spend your time doing something. it might as well be something you want to do. 'when i was a kid,' said irie softly, ringing the bell for their stop, 'i used to think they were little alibis. bus tickets. i mean, look: they've got the time. the date. the place. and if i was up in court, and i had to defend myself, and prove i wasn't where they said i was, doing what they said i did, when they said i did it, i'd pull out one of those.' can i follow you home and listen to you think? be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. when you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. prayer is not an old woman's idle amusement. properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action. when i have a terrible need of - shall i say the word? - religion, then i go out and paint the stars. there are two kinds of people: those who say to god, "thy will be done," and those to whom god says, "all right, then, have it your way." the officials thought it was a cruel joke to leave us stranded in the desert with no way to get home. what they didn't realize was that we were home, soul-centered and strong, women who recognized the sweet smell of sage as fuel for our spirits. some things are true whether you believe them or not. where there is great love there are always great miracles. we are each of us angels with only one wing. and we can only fly embracing each other. i glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all. is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves? i live my life in widening rings. what is life? it is the flash of a firefly in the night. it is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. it is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. for man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, perfectly alive..
If the path is beautiful, let us not ask where it leads. the writer of originality, unless dead, is always shocking, scandalous; novelty disturbs and repels. the feeling of sunday is the same everywhere: heavy, melancholy, standing still. like when they say, 'as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be; world without end.' the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. it isn't for the moment you are struck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security. it is curious how silly, trivial things, sometimes for no apparent reason, become significant. at first you laugh at these things, you think they are of no importance, you go on and you feel that you haven't got the strength to stop yourself... and so it seems to me that if i die, i shall take part in life one way or another..
Generate New Ipsum
Action is eloquence. the blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it. all good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath. spending time is inevitable. you're going to spend your time doing something. it might as well be something you want to do. 'when i was a kid,' said irie softly, ringing the bell for their stop, 'i used to think they were little alibis. bus tickets. i mean, look: they've got the time. the date. the place. and if i was up in court, and i had to defend myself, and prove i wasn't where they said i was, doing what they said i did, when they said i did it, i'd pull out one of those.' can i follow you home and listen to you think? be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. when you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. prayer is not an old woman's idle amusement. properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action. when i have a terrible need of - shall i say the word? - religion, then i go out and paint the stars. there are two kinds of people: those who say to god, "thy will be done," and those to whom god says, "all right, then, have it your way." the officials thought it was a cruel joke to leave us stranded in the desert with no way to get home. what they didn't realize was that we were home, soul-centered and strong, women who recognized the sweet smell of sage as fuel for our spirits. some things are true whether you believe them or not. where there is great love there are always great miracles. we are each of us angels with only one wing. and we can only fly embracing each other. i glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all. is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves? i live my life in widening rings. what is life? it is the flash of a firefly in the night. it is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. it is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. for man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, perfectly alive..
If the path is beautiful, let us not ask where it leads. the writer of originality, unless dead, is always shocking, scandalous; novelty disturbs and repels. the feeling of sunday is the same everywhere: heavy, melancholy, standing still. like when they say, 'as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be; world without end.' the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. it isn't for the moment you are struck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security. it is curious how silly, trivial things, sometimes for no apparent reason, become significant. at first you laugh at these things, you think they are of no importance, you go on and you feel that you haven't got the strength to stop yourself... and so it seems to me that if i die, i shall take part in life one way or another..