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- Important days don't look like anything special when they start. Invariably, the sun rises and people wake up. Coffee is swilled and eggs are swallowed. Everybody goes about the business of acting like their lives matter and then, no matter how important the events of the day end up being, the sun invariably sets. The sun rose before the soldiers stormed Omaha Beach on D-Day, and the sun set after Archduke Franz Ferdinand was killed. Sunrises and sunsets are real jerks about putting things in perspective.
- Josh Lieb, I am a Genius of Unspeakable Evil and I Want to be Your Class President, 2009
- Life isn't simple. But the beauty of it is, you can always start over. It'll get easier.
- Alacia Bessette, Simply from Scratch, 2010
- When a man is ready to marry, he is often not too particular about the lady.
- Eucharista Ward, Match For Mary Bennet, 2009
- The genius of play is that, in playing, we create imaginative new cognitive combinations. And in creating those novel combinations, we find what works.
- Stuart Brown M.D. and Christopher Vaughan, Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul, 2009
- When I first started racing, my father said, "Win the race as slow as you can."
- Richard Petty
- I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Othello, Act I, sc. 1
- Love lacked a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was lodged and newly deified. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), A Lover's Complaint
- But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Troilus and Cressida, Act IV, sc. 2
- When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes...
Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Sonnet XXIX
- Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), The Rape of Lucrece
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