His Quotes
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Even a cock crows over his own dunghill.
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Do not deprive someone of his livelihood. This is a sinful tendency.
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One of the satisfactions of a genius is his will-power and obstinacy.
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From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.
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I went to UCLA, my dad's alma mater, and that was his dream.
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What is wrong with George Bush? What is his problem?
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His ignorance is encyclopedic.
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My unconscious knows more about the consciousness of the psychologist than his consciousness knows about my unconscious.
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My father was an accountant and his father was a typographer.
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Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
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He tried to reconstruct the story in his mind, but it kept getting confused, bleeding into itself like watercolors.
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Look at his quotes. He did say they should have played harder
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He stopped and leaned against a pole and looked up at the deaf and swollen sky. It was a movement of dark shapes, a hurrying, a running. He closed his eyes.
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Nothing belongs more fully to an artist than his creation - even if you give him your youth, your money, your love, your courage, nothing belongs to you.
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When his eyes rested on her, he stopped. He’d been smiling before, in a friendly fashion. But what lit his face when he saw her was more than a smile, more than a grin. It was as if someone had thrown aside the curtains of a sickroom on a glorious morning, to let sunlight spill into every darkened corner.
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His life story was the story of Patricia and him, after all, for better or worse, and if she ended his life might go on, but his story would be over.
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Faith does not rest on your ability to feel God’s love, it rests on His ability to keep His promise.
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This time, his gaze fixed on her and stayed. The wind blew, whipping her skirts about her ankles, as if he'd called up a gale with the intensity of his stare.
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If there was one thing she knew by then, by age twenty-two, it was that she had to get far away and stay away. Here in his world she was trapped in an intolerable corner, which seemed to grow tighter and tighter each year. And now no place in America felt right.
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A cold wind raced across the surrounding fields of wild grass, turning the land into a heaving dark-green ocean. It sighed up through the branches of cherry trees and rattled the thick leaves. Sometimes a cherry would break loose, tumble in the gale, fall and split, filling the night with its fragrance. The air was iron and loam and growth. He walked and tried to pull these things into his lungs, the silence and coolness of them. But someone was screaming, deep inside him. Someone was talking.
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When she was sitting staring into space, communing with her disillusion, his heart would be wrung by their unloving beauty.
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But that's the one thing about being blind. What you look like doesn't matter to Lucky. He sees you with his heart -Lily
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It wasn’t just her hand in his, their bodies side by side on the divan. It was a sense that they were facing not just this trial together, but a life. It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t even always be fun. But even at the worst times, it would be better for her by his side.
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I'll give him a run for his money.
