Virginia Woolf Quotes
For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.
Virginia Woolf
Quotes to Explore
What makes life worth living? Better surely, to yield to the stain of suicide blood in me and seek forgetfulness in the embrace of cold dark death.
Zane Grey
In the old days, you had an audience of about 400, half of whom were committee members from somewhere or other sitting in their suits. It's become a real sports event with sports fans now.
Gary Lineker
When you're a pro athlete, life is very narcissistic - everything relates back to you and how you play. When you are getting out of pro sports, you suddenly have to get a little more mindful of what's going on around you and how you affect the rest of the world.
Abby Wambach
I can be more cold than people would like me to be.
Maelle Gavet
Sports without music is just a game. Music makes it entertaining.
Ice Cube
I grew up playing sports, football, basketball, baseball, everything, and acting was such a different environment and different world for me.
Cam Gigandet
Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?
Pablo Neruda
There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, in the end, "Thy will be done." All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. Those who knock it is opened.
C. S. Lewis
What's good for the financial industry probably isn't good for you.
Bethany McLean
This is a time when we must all take sides for or against the king.
G.A. Henty
For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.
Virginia Woolf