William Francis Buckley (William F. Buckley, Jr.) Quotes
The superstition that the hounds of truth will rout the vermin of error seems, like a fragment of Victorian lace, quaint, but too brittle to be lifted out of the showcase.
Quotes to Explore
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Being famous was extremely disappointing for me. When I became famous it was a complete drag and it is still a complete drag.
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The wealthiest Americans often live as though they and their children had nothing to gain from investments in education, infrastructure, clean-energy, and scientific research.
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You should have certainty in what you do. Anyone who has done anything in this world was hated. If you're not hated, you've done nothing.
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I am in a charity out there to stop violence against women.
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It is one thing to fall victim to the flood or to fall prey to cancer; it is another thing to fall into the hands of the living God.
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Keep your mind open to change all the time. Welcome it. Court it. It is only by examining and reexamining your opinions and ideas that you can progress.
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I'm a dweller of the threshold and I'm waiting at the door, and I'm standing in the darkness, I don't want to wait no more.
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We were told we should not pay any attention to John Roberts views and religion and now we are told that opinions and religion do matter. I believe there is a degree of sexism here. . .and ivy league prejudice going on here.
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No more soul-destroying doctrine could well be devised than the doctrine that sinners can regenerate themselves, and repent and believe just when they please.
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When you make mistakes, whether they are from this life or another, learn from them- then they become opportunities
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Life is the best left hooker I ever saw, although some say it was Charlie White of Chicago
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All men, well interrogated, answer well.
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I want nothing but death.
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I think creativity is a capability of human being. When we're born, we're - all of us has this capability. But part of us forget to use it.
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The monkish vows keep us far from that sink of vice that is the female body, but often they bring us close to other errors. Can I finally hide from myself the fact that even today my old age is still stirred by the noonday demon when my eyes, in choir, happen to linger on the beardless face of a novice, pure and fresh as a maidens?
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The superstition that the hounds of truth will rout the vermin of error seems, like a fragment of Victorian lace, quaint, but too brittle to be lifted out of the showcase.
