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
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
Let people have an education and you can't stop them.
La Monte Young
Pray for me! and what noise soever ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.
Christopher Marlowe
We aim to be producing 75% of our work for Avon in Poland by Q1 2007.
Ian Wright
People want to talk about whether I have rock cred, whether I'm selling out, the theatricality, the gay stuff... Chill out! And just enjoy yourself.
Adam Lambert
I did find Calypso hotdog - but only once, far in the depths of the very wildest of Canadian dark woods, near those high, cold, moss-covered swamps. … I felt as if I were in the presence of superior beings who loved me and beckoned me to come. I sat down beside them and wept for joy.
John Muir
It is only luxury and avarice that make poverty grievous to us; for it is a very small matter that does our business, and when we have provided against cold, hunger, and thirst, all the rest is but vanity and excess.
Seneca the Younger
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