Wallace Stevens Quotes
Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings Of those white elders; but, escaping, Left only Death's ironic scraping. Now, in its immortality, it plays On the clear viol of her memory, And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
Wallace Stevens
Quotes to Explore
The fact is that surveys which media people openly admit to show that fewer than twelve percent of their customers believe they're doing a good job, while the average profit margin in television is in the neighborhood of eighty percent.
L. Neil Smith
I'm a plodder, one foot in front of the other. Life is all about understanding that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And it's your ability with how you deal with that adversity that ultimately affects your success.
Gary Johnson
I've been on a tweeting mission.
Gabby Douglas
In New Hampshire, we know that small businesses and entrepreneurs are the engines of economic growth in the 21st-century economy, and our state has long been defined by the entrepreneurial spirit of our people.
Maggie Hassan
I live in England, so I take a lot of trains, and you can't really go anywhere without somebody talking on their mobile phone behind you, forcing you to listen to their conversation. With the Internet, with texting, with networking sites, there's already information everywhere.
Patrick Ness
I don't get hung up on weight.
Jack Black
People don't buy technology, they buy content...You have got to have content that is married to (technology).
Chase Carey
My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.
Oscar Wilde
Academics love to make theories about a body of work, but each book consumes the writer and is the sum of his or her world.
Jeanette Winterson
It's long been my dream to have myself declared incompetent so I could just practice all day, and blog, and not have to take care of any normal life things.
Jeremy Denk
I want young people to see me and think you can be feminine and smart and successful, all at the same time.
Portia de Rossi
Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings Of those white elders; but, escaping, Left only Death's ironic scraping. Now, in its immortality, it plays On the clear viol of her memory, And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
Wallace Stevens