I search for surprise in my architecture. A work of art should cause the emotion of newness.

Human beings are free except when humanity needs them.

Orson Scott Card

Things start out as hopes and end up as habits.

Lillian Hellman

None of the people have any real interest in a science, who only begin to be enthusiastic about it when they themselves have made discoveries in it.

Friedrich Nietzsche

In our own lives, let each of us asknot just what government will do for me, but what can I do for myself?

Richard Milhous Nixon

There are people and nations, Mother, that I would like to say to you by name. I entrust them to you in silence, I entrust them to you in the way that you know best.

Pope John Paul II

Boldness is ever blind, for it sees not dangers and inconveniences whence it is bad in council though good in execution.

Francis Bacon

Men are more accountable for their motives, than for anything else; and primarily, morality consists in the motives, that is in the affections.

Archibald Alexander

Life is too short to waste time waiting for other people's approval on how you live it.

Steve Maraboli

I picked up the Joss Stone album, Josh Groban, and the new Norah Jones. I love, love, love Norah.

Deborah Cox

Head high, heart in hell

Coco J. Ginger

The truth is, the Devil's job is easy.

Tyler Edwards

He sighed profoundly, and flung himself - there was a passion in his movements which deserves the word - on the earth at the foot of the oak tree. He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth's spine beneath him; for such he took the hard root of the oak tree to be; or, for image followed image, it was the back of a great horse that he was riding; or the deck of a tumbling ship - it was anything indeed, so long as it was hard, for he felt the need of something which he could attach his floating heart to; the heart that tugged at his side; the heart that seemed filled with spiced and amorous gales every evening about this time when he walked out. To the oak tree he tied it and as he lay there, gradually the flutter in and about him stilled itself; the little leaves hung, the deer stopped; the pale summer clouds stayed; his limbs grew heavy on the ground; and he lay so still that by degrees the deer stopped nearer and the rooks wheeled round him and the swallows dipped and circled and the dragonflies shot past, as if all the fertility and amorous activity of a summer's evening were woven web-like about his body.

Virginia Woolf