Pablo Neruda Quotes
There's a country spread out in the sky, a credulous carpet of rainbows and crepuscular plants: I move toward it just a bit haggardly, trampling a gravedigger's rubble still moist from the spade to dream in a bedlam of vegetables.
Pablo Neruda
Quotes to Explore
Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.
Samuel Johnson
I want to coach high school football, and that's always what I've wanted to do.
J. J. Watt
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.
Og Mandino
I know my corn plants intimately, and I find it a great pleasure to know them.
Barbara McClintock
Dreams are not without meaning wherever thay may come from-from fantasy, from the elements, or from other inspiration.
Paracelsus
Leaving all the glamour and air-kissing aside, at the end of the day, fashion is about operations and getting things done. The best way to be successful, therefore, is to learn from the people who do it best.
Imran Amed
For me, it's a great joy to be together with priests: in the end, the bishop of Rome is the bishop and brother of all priests. His mandate is to confirm the brothers in the faith.
Pope Benedict XVI
Shall I ever be able to read that story again; the one I couldn't remember? Will you tell it to me, Aslan? Oh do,do,do." "Indeed,yes, I will tell it to you for years and years. But now, come. We must meet the master of this house.
C. S. Lewis
As the years go by, I find myself experiencing God's extraordinary concern, consideration, healing, and what I call in my books, the divine therapy.
Thomas Keating
Q: Do you feel a need to be distinctive and mass-produced? Q: Are you in the groove? That is, are you moving in ever-diminishing circles? Q: How often do you change your mind, your politics, your clothes? (p. 121-125)
Marshall McLuhan
There's a country spread out in the sky, a credulous carpet of rainbows and crepuscular plants: I move toward it just a bit haggardly, trampling a gravedigger's rubble still moist from the spade to dream in a bedlam of vegetables.
Pablo Neruda