Elena Ferrante Quotes
He had rid himself so fiercely of memory, language, the capacity to find meaning that it seemed obvious the hatred he had for himself, for his own skin, for his moods, for his thoughts and words, for the brutal corner of the world that had enveloped him.
Elena Ferrante
Quotes to Explore
I'm, I guess you could say, the Chinese-speaking, banjo-picking girl.
Abigail Washburn
My view is that innovation has declined in the everyday processes that businesses tinker with incrementally as they try to become more productive over time.
Edmund Phelps
My husband and I click wedding rings sometimes and say, 'By the power of the Castle of Greyskull!'
Tamora Pierce
What brought the British to the Gambia in the first place - which was bigger than it is now - was trade in ivory because the Gambia had a lot of elephants. They wiped out all the elephants and ended up selling Africans.
Yahya Jammeh
Catalan citizens are peaceful, European, and open-minded. We want to contribute to better international and European governance.
Carles Puigdemont
When you're 21, you think, 'Oh God, when I'm 36, oh God, that's nearly 40 and I'll look really old and wrinkly by then.' And actually, I quite like the way I look.
Kate Winslet
I find American football quite ridiculous generally. I don't understand it. It looks like a lot of guys dressed up as spacemen shouting at each other.
Alex Kapranos
Franz Ferdinand
If you shell a military base and happen to kill civilians, you have not committed a war crime; if you deliberately target cities and towns, you have.
Sebastian Junger
Work eight hours and sleep eight hours and make sure that they are not the same hours.
T. Boone Pickens
As long as a memory is inaccessible, the mind is unable to change it. But as soon as a story starts being told, particularly if it is told repeatedly, it changes – the act of telling itself changes the tale. The mind cannot help but make meaning out of what it knows, and the meaning we make of our lives changes how and what we remember.
Bessel van der Kolk
He had rid himself so fiercely of memory, language, the capacity to find meaning that it seemed obvious the hatred he had for himself, for his own skin, for his moods, for his thoughts and words, for the brutal corner of the world that had enveloped him.
Elena Ferrante
