John Dryden Quotes
What flocks of critics hover here to-day,As vultures wait on armies for their prey,All gaping for the carcase of a play!With croaking notes they bode some dire event,And follow dying poets by the scent.
John Dryden
Quotes to Explore
I was utterly miserable, and yet fearless as I had never been. I was carefree. It was like dying. It would be foolish to worry about anything while one died.
Ursula K. Le Guin
I remember a Stephen Harper once upon a time... You've become what you used to oppose... Mr. Harper, what happened to you? What changed?
Jack Layton
Mother, mother There's too many of you crying. Brother, brother, brother There's far too many of you dying. You know we've got to find a way To bring some lovin' here today.
Marvin Gaye
I didn't get to masturbate this morning, and I've been dying to, so I've gotta go.
Anna Nicole Smith
There is merely bad luck in not being loved; there is misfortune in not loving. All of us, today, are dying of this misfortune. For violence and hatred dry up the heart itself; the long fight for justice exhausts the love that nevertheless gave birth to it.
Albert Camus
As a people we have become obsessed with Health. There is something fundamentally, radically unhealthy about all this. We do not seem to be seeking more exuberance in living as much as staving off failure, putting off dying. We have lost all confidence in the human body.
Lewis Thomas
What I enjoy most is doing something I've never done before.
Karl Lagerfeld
What it is now is basically, I'll sit on my computer; I basically kind of play the computer as an instrument, I guess you could say. I guess I play the Mac. And how it works is, say - I have a program called 'Ableton Live.' And, you know, you'll open it up, and it's just blank. There's nothing there. And then you start.
Flume
Having grown up in Bombay, from the day you're born, you have absolute freedom to choose who you want to be.
Freida Pinto
What flocks of critics hover here to-day,As vultures wait on armies for their prey,All gaping for the carcase of a play!With croaking notes they bode some dire event,And follow dying poets by the scent.
John Dryden