Quotes in the category sad-but-true.
So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.
... true evil needs no reason to exist, it simply is and feeds upon itself.
It is unfortunate that in most cases when the sins of the father fall on the son it is because unlike God, people refuse to forgive and forget and heap past wrongs upon innocent generations.
It was not curiosity that killed the goose who laid the golden egg, but an insatiable greed that devoured common sense.
Aku nggak membencimu. Aku hanya benci karena ternyata begitu sulit melupakanmu.
I not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of suffering
We want one class of persons to have a liberal education, and we want another class of persons, a very much larger class of necessity in every society, to forgo the privilege of a liberal education and fit themselves to perform specific difficult manual tasks.
So while I was busy saving you from Hell,you were pushing me further to it; the poison murdering me well.
Some ghost of myself still lived back in the days when we'd shared a bed and talked of the future. But that love we'd had and those selves we'd been were gone, placed in a box like old photographs and letters you'd never read again.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow-that, in short, we are all going
Flowery tongues have thorny throats.
Remember, you are as dispensable as the most indispensable king of kings, the mighty lord of silly worldly men.
Live joyfully this life. Once gone, who knows if we ever get it back. Atheists think we do not. Mystics say you will. Either way, chill.
After you die, a rare friend or family member may carry your memory throughout life. Most will forget you. As if you were never here.
Pops added,"you know, they say if you don't vote, you get the government you deserve.""And if you do, you never get the results you expected," (Katherine) replied.
Evil influence is like a nicotine patch, you cannot help but absorb what sticks to you.
(The Mona Lisa), that really is the ugliest portrait I’ve seen, the only thing that supposedly makes it famous is the mystery behind it,” Katherine admitted as she remembered her trips to the Louvre and how she shook her head at the poor tourists crowding around to see a jaundiced, eyebrow-less lady that reminded her of tight-lipped Washington on the dollar bill. Surely, they could have chosen a better portrait of the First President for their currency?
...Come on let’s see the degree.” Katherine unrolled her scroll displaying a long declaration in Latin affixed with a red seal proclaiming her a Master of Art. “Imagine working for years to obtain a piece of paper we can hardly read ” Katherine joked. “And to officially declare you have talent ” Suzy returned.
While art thrives on the blazing colours of scandal, literature blossoms on the dark soil of tragedy.
Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.
We don't act like that because we are in good humor we are in a good humor because otherwise we should go to pieces.
Someday, even my existence would be felt.
It hurt when someone lies to you, and you know that. But you believe him instead because you love him.
When you love someone, you become immune to the hurt they cause you. You don’t love hoping to get something in return, you love because you have to. In its extreme form, it is a need to give, not a need to get.
I have suffered a loss, Forrest, far greater than my legs. It's my spirit, my soul, if you will. There is only a blank there now - medals where my soul used to be.
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