I love women, but I feel like you can't trust some of them. Some of them are liars, you know? Like I was in the park and I met this girl, she was cute and she had a dog. And I went up to her, we started talking. She told me her dog's name. Then I said, 'Does he bite?' She said, 'No.' And I said, 'Oh yeah? Then how does he eat?' Liar.
Demetri MartinRelated topics
bite dog eat girl went women liar met name park talking tell trust yeahRelated quotes
Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals is utterly useless to any one a blight never does good to a tree, if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.
William Blake
I conceived, developed and applied in many areas a new geometry of nature, which finds order in chaotic shapes and processes. It grew without a name until 1975, when I coined a new word to denote it, fractal geometry, from the Latin word for irregular and broken up, fractus. Today you might say that, until fractal geometry became organized, my life had followed a fractal orbit.
Benoît Mandelbrot
In this century the writer has carried on a conversation with madness. We might almost say of the twentieth-century writer that he aspires to madness. Some have made it, of course, and they hold special places in our regard. To a writer, madness is a final distillation of self, a final editing down. It's the drowning out of false voices.
Don DeLillo
Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears Ah, she doth depart. Soon as she was gone from me A traveler came by Silently, invisibly He took her with a sigh.
William Blake
Look, we're all the same a man is a fourteen-room house --in the bedroom he's asleep with his intelligent wife, in the living-room he's rolling around with some bareass girl, in the library he's paying his taxes, in the yard he's raising tomatoes, and in the cellar he's making a bomb to blow it all up.
Arthur Miller