People keep talking about this unfolding. I can't trust the unfolding, okay? If there is some higher power making origami out of the universe, it hates my guts. I was a fat kid whose parents got divorced, whose father died, and then who got cancer he...
The anti-religious modernism which now threatens Islam and Muslims everywhere can be fully understood only by understanding the religion of the civilization in whose bosom modernism first developed, against which it rebelled, and whose tenets it has ...
I heard the voice of that bird, son of Polypas, whose piercing outcry and whose arrival announces to men the season when fields are plowed, and the voice of her broke the heart that darkens within me, since other men posess my flourishing acres now, ...
When people come to speak to me, whatever they say, I am struck by a kind of incandescence in them, the 'I' whose predicate can be 'love' or 'fear' or 'want,' and whose object can be 'someone' or 'nothing' and it won't really matter, because the love...
Barbossa: Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow. Kill him. Jack Sparrow: The girl's blood didn't work, did it? Barbossa: [to the crew] Hold your fire! Barbossa: You know whose blood we need. Jack Sparrow: I know whose blood you need!
Doctor: [after detailing Hughes's terrible injuries in the plane crash] He's getting blood transfusions now, but, uh... Noah Dietrich: Whose blood? Doctor: I'm sorry? Noah Dietrich: Whose blood? Doctor: From our stock. Noah Dietrich: Oh, he's not gon...
My imagination is my everything. I imagined myself as everything, and eventually I found out that the tree is the hardest thing to be, it stays still looking at thieves, burglars, murderers, lovers, haters, friends, families, its can see the truth an...
When a candidate for public office faces the voters he does not face men of sense; he faces a mob of men whose chief distinguishing mark is the fact that they are quite incapable of weighing ideas, or even of comprehending any save the most elemental...
My beauty icons are women whose images are self-created.
Fairest and best adorned is she Whose clothing is humility.
Music is the melody whose text is the world.
Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.
I remember certain lines and whose they are.
Once upon a time there was a mother who, in order to become a mother, had agreed to change her name; who set herself the task of falling in love with her husband bit-by-bit, but who could n ever manage to love one part, the part, curiously enough, wh...
I imagine that the essential gesture of the Operator is to surprise something or someone (through the little hole in the camera), and that this gesture is therefore perfect when it is performed unbeknownst to the subject being photographed. From this...
You're a poem?' I repeated. She chewed her lower lip. 'If you want. I am a poem, or I am a pattern, or a race of people whose whose world was swallowed by the sea.' 'Isn't it hard to be three things at the same time?' 'What's your name?' 'Enn.' 'So y...
For the very first time Andrew realized that life, real life, had no connection with the way people spent their days, whose lips they kissed, what medals were pinned on them, or the shoes they mended. Life, real life went on soundlessly...ultimately ...
Let us then understand at once that change or variety is as much a necessity to the human heart and brain in buildings as in books; that there is no merit, though there is some occasional use, in monotony; and that we must no more expect to derive ei...
You were contemplating the mountain, Mr. Conway?" Came the inquiry. "Yes, it's a fine sight. It has a name, I suppose?" "It is called Karakal" "I don't think I've ever heard of it. Is is very high?" "Over twenty-eight thousand feet." "Indeed? I didn'...
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins ...
In the religious myths, the creative will appears personified in God, and man already feels himself guilty when he assumes himself to be like God, that is, to ascribe this will to himself. In the heroic myths on the contrary, man appears as himself, ...
