W. H. Auden Quotes
Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
W. H. Auden
Quotes to Explore
Many of the master chefs in the South, both the upper South as well as the deep South, were blacks and many of those people came here to Washington, D.C., and opened up establishments. Very, very few of them have survived. But they certainly were very prominent.
Ed Smith
We, the women of the Senate, with President Obama by our side, will keep fighting - our shoulders square, our lipstick on - because you deserve equal pay for your hard work.
Barbara Mikulski
I like the timeframe involved in being an actor.
Karl Urban
I'm really focusing now on how I can get to the next level as a batsman. How can I get even more competitive? How can I get even more consistent? How can I get better?
Sachin Tendulkar
If you care about the news and write what you want to read - not just what you think Google search wants to read - there are people out there who want to read it.
Rachel Sklar
As a boy, I was deeply interested in scientific ideas, electrical and mechanical, and I read almost everything I could find on the subject. I was attracted more by the hardware and construction aspects than by the scientific issues.
Carlo Rubbia
Consider then, O man! whether there can be anything more wretched and poor, more naked and miserable, than man when he dies, if he be not clothed with Christ's righteousness, and enriched in his God.
Johann Arndt
Bureaucrats are a pox. They are supposed to be necessary. Certain chemicals in the body are supposed to be necessary to life, but cause death the moment they increase beyond a suitable limit.
Ezra Pound
The long and winding road that leads to your door Will never disappear, I've seen that road before it always leads me here, Leads me to your door.
Paul McCartney
Paul McCartney and Wings
He can run, but he can't hide.
Joe Louis
Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
W. H. Auden