Marcel Proust Quotes
Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
Marcel Proust
Quotes to Explore
I grew up in Decatur, Georgia. We had three boys in the household; actually, it felt like four of us. My pops sort of raised my uncle, too. So, it was four boys and, later, a younger sister.
Omari Hardwick
I never called my work an 'art'. It's part of show business, the business of building entertainment.
Walt Disney
Even if I flop, I still qualified for the Games, and that was my goal. My target was to be at an Olympics for the third time with people I like.
Laure Manaudou
While we are examining into everything we sometimes find truth where we least expected it.
Quintilian
It's a funny thing, the less people have to live for, the less nerve they have to risk losing nothing.
Zora Neale Hurston
There's nothing unclassy about being naked, if it's appropriate.
Danica McKellar
One had better not rush, otherwise dung comes out rather than creative work.
Anton Chekhov
Technologies and specific vendors may come and go, but massive cultural transformations and new kinds of relationships? Those don't go away.
Clara Shih
Unless you are educated in metaphor, you are not safe to be let loose in the world.
Robert Frost
Why should there be hunger and deprivation in any land, in any city, at any table, when man has the resources and the scientific know-how to provide all mankind with the basic necessities of life? There is no deficit in human resources. The deficit is in human will.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Life doesn't come with an instruction manual.
Scott Westerfeld
Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
Marcel Proust