Ray Bradbury (Ray Douglas Bradbury) Quotes
The merry-go-round was running, yes, but... It was running backward. The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes.
Ray Bradbury
Quotes to Explore
To avoid being mistaken for a sellout, I chose my friends carefully. The more politically active black students. The foreign students. The Chicanos. The Marxist professors and structural feminists and punk-rock performance poets.
Barack Obama
MTV didn't call. I guess I wasn't hip and groovy enough.
Dan Fogelberg
I don't think men like a bad girl. Well, I haven't had a date in a year so I'm obviously doing something wrong. It's not that my standards are too high, I haven't even been asked out in a year. I have no standards, anyone, please!
Yasmine Bleeth
As a writer, one is always a little blind to what one writes.
Patrick Modiano
When my father was arrested, we didn't know where they had him. My mother found him at the house of torture. It was called Villa Triste.
Oriana Fallaci
There's usually one piece in 'Vanity Fair' every month that grabs me, but when it presents hatchet jobs without substantiation to impress its liberal friends, I laugh first, then toss.
Dan Jenkins
Sport doesn't know barriers, really. You are judged on your performance... how far you can jump, how fast you can run, how well you can hit a tennis ball.
Martina Navratilova
There is a God-shaped vacuum in every heart.
Blaise Pascal
I think being successful in comedy is being funny and making jokes - anything beyond that is the icing on the cake.
Jimmy Carr
Free of distraction, free of clinging, free of meditation. Beyond intellect: Remain in the state beyond intellect. Great Perfection. Selfless, unborn, free of extremes,
inexpressible.
Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche
The merry-go-round was running, yes, but... It was running backward. The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes.
Ray Bradbury