You're not an M.P., you're a gastronomic pimp.

We must all suffer one of two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret or disappointment.

Jim Rohn

It is indolence... Indolence and love of ease; a want of all laudable ambition, of taste for good company, or of inclination to take the trouble of being agreeable, which make men clergymen. A clergyman has nothing to do but be slovenly and selfish; read the newspaper, watch the weather, and quarrel with his wife. His curate does all the work and the business of his own life is to dine.

Jane Austen

When you are offended at any man's fault, turn to yourself and study your own failings. Then you will forget your anger.

Epictetus

We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking. In that race which daily hastens us towards death, the body maintains its irreparable lead.

Albert Camus

Week after week, the heads of Red Army Intelligence received updates on the Wehrmacht's preparations.

Leopold Trepper

Americans try to talk about positive family values, although the actual state of things is disastrous.

Vladimir Zhirinovsky

We are currently working on new policies to protect and create American jobs, particularly by improving education. We need more information in order to find the best solutions to this increasing concern for American families.

Dan Lipinski

God is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us.

Niccolo Machiavelli

All my life I've been looking for diversity.

Max von Sydow

From Les Miserables:All at once, in the midst of this profound calm, a fresh sound arose; a sound as celestial, divine, ineffable, ravishing, as the other had been horrible. It was a hymn which issued from the gloom, a dazzling burst of prayer and harmony in the obscure and alarming silence of the night; women's voices, but voices composed at one and the same time of the pure accents of virgins and the innocent accent of children, -- voices which are not of the earth, and which resemble those that the newborn infant still hears, and which the dying man hears already. This song proceeded from the gloomy edifice which towered above the garden. At the moment when the hubbub of demons retreated, one would have said that a choir of angels was approaching through the gloom.Cosette and Jean Valjean fell on their knees.They knew not what it was, they knew not where they were; but both of them, the man and the child, the penitent and the innocent, felt that they must kneel.These voices had this strange characteristic, that they did not prevent the building from seeming to be deserted. It was a supernatural chant in an uninhabited house. While these voices were singing, Jean Valjean thought of nothing. He no longer beheld the night; he beheld a blue sky. It seemed to him that he felt those wings which we all have within us, unfolding.The song died away. It may have lasted a long time. Jean Valjean could not have told. Hours of ecstasy are never more than a moment.

Victor Hugo

This script, it seems to me, is the work of professionals who yearned to be as charming as inspired amateurs can sometimes be.

Kurt Vonnegut

The truth is that we live out our lives putting off all that can be put off perhaps we all know deep down that we are immortal and that sooner or later all men will do and know all things.

Jorge Luis Borges