William Shakespeare Quotes
Quotes to Explore
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I hate jeans for no reason.
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I don't do athletics for any other reason than achieving certain distances, certain titles and goals in my head.
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For some reason, when I get to the 200m, I'm always a little bit nervous.
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A lion is called a 'king of beasts' obviously for a reason.
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My own tastes happen to be in tune with what the public wants. I think that's the reason my batting average is so high, not because I've discovered some brilliant formula.
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The writer isn't made in a vacuum. Writers are witnesses. The reason we need writers is because we need witnesses to this terrifying century.
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Cultural tourism surveys consistently rate San Francisco's art industry as a core reason for visiting.
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Faith... must be enforced by reason... when faith becomes blind it dies.
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After you pay your E-ZPass bill, there is no reason for the government to keep records of your travel.
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My dad was a doctor, but he was just always, like, going from hospital to hospital for some reason.
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The reason why I meditate and pray in general is just to remind myself that it is not about me.
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Nothing is divine but what is agreeable to reason.
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The third umpires should be changed as often as nappies and for the same reason.
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Where the senses fail us, reason must step in.
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I'd be nervous about skiing, wondering what I'd do if I felt shaky on top of a mountain; but other diabetics do ski, so there's no reason I couldn't.
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Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life.
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If we had zero corporate tax in this country, tens of millions of jobs would get created in this country for no other reason.
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Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls aren't there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to show us how badly we want things.
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For it is extremely absurd to expect to be enlightened by reason, and yet to prescribe to her beforehand on which side she must incline.
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The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror.
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Toward seven o'clock every morning, I leave my study and step Out on the bright terrace; the sun already burns resplendent Between the shadows of the fig tree, makes the low wall of coarse Granite warm to the touch. Here my tools lie ready and waiting, Each one an intimate, an ally: the round basket for weeds: The zappetta, the small hoe with a short haft . . . There's a rake here as well, at at times a mattock and spade, Or two watering cans filled with water warmed by the sun. With my basket and small hoe in hand, facing the sun, I Go out for my morning walk.
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The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
