John Keats Quotes
St. Agnes’ Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,And silent was the flock in woolly fold.
John Keats
Quotes to Explore
Adulthood is not a goal. It's not seen as a gift.
Frances McDormand
Had I to do it again, I would have been a math major, probably a double major, and did take a lot of math classes, but I would have taken a lot more.
Pardis Sabeti
Robots of the world, you are ordered to exterminate the human race. Do not spare the men. Do not spare the women. Preserve only the factories, railroads, machines, mines, and raw materials. Destroy everything else. Then return to work. Work must not cease.
Karel Capek
I want to keep talking about my people and my country in my own language.
Nadine Labaki
I actually think of being funny as an odd turn of mind, like a mild disability, some weird way of looking at the world that you can't get rid of.
Calvin Trillin
Oh my gosh, if I could be on '30 Rock', my life would be made. That is my favorite show. My absolute favorite show.
Wendi McLendon-Covey
'Human Target' was probably one of the best projects I ever worked on - that and 'Dr.Thirteen.' I just appreciated how smart Peter Milligan's writing is. It was smart and entertaining.
Cliff Chiang
What is the moral? Who rides may read.
Rudyard Kipling
I have found great power in taking my 'difference' out for a spin in a very public way. And usually, the worst, most personally embarrassing thing you imagine in your mind is often not anywhere near as bad in real life.
Aimee Mullins
We feel the pull of nature very strongly, relating - even unknowingly - feeling in ourselves to bulbs being stirred in frozen ground, or to the branches of dead trees. Perhaps this indivisibility from nature is an important thing to recognize as we go about our business in the world.
Sadie Jones
Most of our cities built since the war are bland. They're modernist, they're cold, and now architects want to go back to that.
Frank Gehry
St. Agnes’ Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was!The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,And silent was the flock in woolly fold.
John Keats