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
They tend to be civil servants, often diplomats drawn from the Foreign Office, who may be very pleasant, intelligent people, but once they get inside the Palace they're riveted to the status quo and they lose track of public opinion in the real world.
Anthony Holden
Today we are at a crossroads. The technology is available for two great options: The massive surveillance state, or the renewed freedom of a deeply-involved citizenry thinking independently and holding the government to the highest standards.
Oliver DeMille
Two things of opposite natures seem to depend On one another, as a man depends On a woman, day on night, the imaginedOn the real. This is the origin of change. Winter and spring, cold copulars, embrace And forth the particulars of rapture come.
Wallace Stevens
A book should serve as the ax for the frozen sea within us.
Franz Kafka
No good water comes from a muddy spring. No sweet fruit comes from a bitter seed.
Jose Rizal
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
