Charles L. Grant Quotes
The cover was pebbled black leather, the pages onionskin, and he opened it carefully. It was his first Bible, the one his mother had given him, the one that had taken its time showing him what he was supposed to do with his life, his size, that voice of his. It was the one used for his ordination, and when he had buried his mother on a autumn hillside in Tennesee five years ago. King James. He didn't care about the scholars or the accuracy or the bringing of his church into whatever century they claimed it was these days; he cared about the poetry, and about the comfort it brought to those who needed to hear it.
Charles L. Grant
Quotes to Explore
If the television market collapses - and it will collapse - then, it seems, there is too much regulation, and that's not a good thing.
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If I allow journalists to describe a collection and they make mistakes, I'm upset, because the retractions are never noticed.
Calvin Klein
When I'm in the car, I want the only one shouting to be me.
P. J. O'Rourke
When I was singing Jamie's Cryin', people were going out of their mind because it was the first time they got to see Eddie, Michael and Alex play those songs. That was a thrill.
Gary Cherone
Van Halen
In a neighborhood, as in life, a clean bandage is much, much better than a raw or festering wound.
Ed Koch
I found a mistake in a rule. They addressed the wrong rule number... I pointed it out, did an amendment, and everybody was happy after that.
Dan Webster
I know the old ways. There’s nothing evil there, only strange, and not even strange when you know it.
Tanith Lee
Thank you, Senator Hagel for that wonderful introduction. It is a great honour to be introduced by such a distinguished legislator.
Kofi Annan
Life. We'd long known it was cruel.
Nova Ren Suma
Rap is poetry set to music. But to me it's like a jackhammer.
Bette Midler
'But girls often marry when they are too young,' exclaimed Mary-Marie quickly; 'so, if you don't object to my age - '
L. Frank Baum
The cover was pebbled black leather, the pages onionskin, and he opened it carefully. It was his first Bible, the one his mother had given him, the one that had taken its time showing him what he was supposed to do with his life, his size, that voice of his. It was the one used for his ordination, and when he had buried his mother on a autumn hillside in Tennesee five years ago. King James. He didn't care about the scholars or the accuracy or the bringing of his church into whatever century they claimed it was these days; he cared about the poetry, and about the comfort it brought to those who needed to hear it.
Charles L. Grant
