William Alfred Quayle Quotes
Frankly, the trouble with winter is, it is all backbone. It is fleshless, insensate, with neither a breast to be leaned on nor a heart to love and ache and, if need be, break, nor any kindly hand to fondle and caress like a sea-wave on a sunny shore half asleep.
William Alfred Quayle
Quotes to Explore
From Enve Composites to Bluehouse Skis, Utah companies are making breakthrough products for biking, winter sports, water sports and more.
Gary Herbert
I feel like trouble has followed me from the day I was born.
Natalia Kills
My signature look is an eighties baby doll dress, combat boots with colorful socks sticking out, and then mounds of jewelry. I love silver and turquoise. I go to Montana every winter, so I hunt around for cool pieces there.
Zoey Deutch
The trouble with children is that they're not returnable.
Quentin Crisp
When I was a kid and got in trouble, I'd always say, Mom, I'm in trouble. Well, Mom, I'm in trouble.
Earl Campbell
I'm shy, but I'm not clinically shy. I don't have social anxiety disorder or anything like that. I more have a gentle shyness. Like, I have a little trouble mingling at parties.
Samantha Bee
I hold that the beginning of modern Irish drama was in the winter of 1898, at a school feast at Coole, when Douglas Hyde and Miss Norma Borthwick acted in Irish in a Punch and Judy show; and the delighted children went back to tell their parents what grand curses 'An Craoibhin' had put on the baby and the policeman.
Lady Gregory
Each solstice is a domain of experience unto itself. At the Summer Solstice, all is green and growing, potential coming into being, the miracle of manifestation painted large on the canvas of awareness. At the Winter Solstice, the wind is cold, trees are bare and all lies in stillness beneath blankets of snow.
Gary Zukav
In spite of all the dishonour, the broken standards, the broken lives, The broken faith in one place or another, There was something left that was more than the tales Of old men on winter evenings.
T. S. Eliot
The short winter’s day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out.
Samuel Beckett
In the spring or warmer weather when the snow thaws in the woods the tracks of winter reappear on slender pedestals and the snow reveals in palimpsest old buried wanderings, struggles, scenes of death. Tales of winter brought to light again like time turned back upon itself. (p.130)
Cormac McCarthy
And even if they hadn't told me, I would have known it was the coldest winter ever. Because I have not had one thought! I have not been able to complete a sentence in my own head! I find myself walking around going 'You know what, I should really... FUCK, IT'S COLD!'
Lewis Black
The cause of rain is now, I consider, no longer an object of doubt. If two masses of air of unequal temperatures, by the ordinary currents of the winds, are intermixed, when saturated with vapour, a precipitation ensues. If the masses are under saturation, then less precipitation takes place, or none at all, according to the degree. Also, the warmer the air, the greater is the quantity of vapour precipitated in like circumstances. ... Hence the reason why rains are heavier in summer than in winter, and in warm countries than in cold.
John Dalton
You shouldn't talk about yourself all the time - most of us aren't for sale. Our books are. Talk about them. It's not a question of whether or not you're fascinating on a personal level - it's that your trivia and trials might not have any connection to the tone, tenor and sense of your books.
M. J. Rose
I know I'm not the best. I'm not the best singer, I'm not the best songwriter, I'm not the best player.
Robert James Ritchi
Five hours' New York jet lag and Cayce Pollard wakes in Camden Town to the dire and ever-circling wolves of disrupted circadian rhythm.
William Gibson
The cruelest thing you can do to an artist is tell them their work is flawless when it isn't
Yahtzee Croshaw
Frankly, the trouble with winter is, it is all backbone. It is fleshless, insensate, with neither a breast to be leaned on nor a heart to love and ache and, if need be, break, nor any kindly hand to fondle and caress like a sea-wave on a sunny shore half asleep.
William Alfred Quayle
