I have a very hard time getting to rage. I always assume that maybe I've done something wrong and then forgotten about it.
Serenity comes from the ability to say “Yes” to existence. Courage comes from the ability to say “No” to the wrong choices made by others.
Some women are just better at knowing what they want, which saves them the trouble of wasting too much time on the wrong guy.
America, to me, should be shouting all the time, a bunch of shouting voices, most of them wrong, some of them nuts, but please, not just one droning glamourous reasonable voice.
Explanations exist; they have existed for all time; there is always a well-known solution to every human problem—neat, plausible, and wrong.
Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete proving nature's laws wrong it learned 2 walk without having feet
What'd you think would happen when you died? That the prophecy would just be over and we'd all be like, oops, guess we got that one wrong?
I know what is wrong, I know what is right, and most importantly, I know what is left. Nothing is left, now that she left and took all her love.
If at first you don’t succeed, you’re doing it wrong. Learn from the experience. Try again, but with a different approach.
When you finally meet the right one for you, it suddenly becomes clear why everyone else was so wrong.
Whether you think you're right or you think you're wrong. You're right." "If you think in pictures, write. If you think in words, paint.
You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Kricket… the stars here are in opposition to you… can’t you feel it?… Let us take you home.
I miss you Annabeth. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I think about you all the damn time.
Women are not wrong if they react instinctively – often jealously – against their partner’s interest in porn, since pornography is actually, neurologically, a woman’s destructive rival for her man’s sexual capabilities.
Fear can make you do more wrong than hate or jealousy... fear makes you always, always hold something back.
What's wrong with people?" she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. "Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?
Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.
My face seems too square and my eyes too big, like I'm perpetually surprised, but there's nothing wrong with me that I can fix.
The rat is the mous- tache in the trache. the wrong- doer in the soer.
Being right keeps you in place. Being wrong forces you to explore.
[…] What's wrong with her?" "Chronic competence, I should guess. She's been so successful in life that she has unrealistic expectations of others.
