"I realized ceativity is a renewable resource. You never run out of good ideas"

-- Biz Stone

#Running Quotes #Ideas Quotes #Renewable Resources Quotes

“The hymns of David, the plays of Shakespeare, the metaphysics of Descartes, the crimes of Borgia, the virtues of Antonine, the atheism of yesterday and the materialism of today, were all emanations of divine thought, doing their appointed work. It was the duty of the church to deal with them all, not as though they existed through a power hostile to the deity, but as instruments of the deity to work out his unrevealed ends.”
“When the last Puritan has disappeared from the earth, the man of science will take his place as a killjoy, and we shall be given the same old advice but for different reasons.”
“I have concluded through careful empirical analysis and much thought that somebody is looking out for me, keeping track of what I think about things, forgiving me when I do less than I ought. Giving me strength to shoot for more than I think Iâ€™m capable of. I believe they know everything that I do and think, and they still love me, and Iâ€™ve concluded, after careful consideration, that this person keeping score is me”

Source : Speech at the Reason Rally, blog.skepticallibertarian.com. March 26, 2012.
“Make good use of your time, it flies fast.”
“We are not interested in the possibilities of defeat. They do not exist.”

Source : To A. J. Balfour, in 'Black Week', December 1899
“The secret to the sound is to drop the bass on the floor!”
“Is It Unloving to Speak of Hell? If you were giving some friends directions to Denver and you knew that one road led there but a second road ended at a sharp cliff around a blind corner, would you talk only about the safe road? No. You would tell them about both, especially if you knew that the road to destruction was wider and more traveled. In fact, it would be terribly unloving not to warn them about that other road.”
“Those forms we fancy shadows, those strange lights That flash on dank morasses, the quick wind That smites us by the roadsideâ€”are the Night's Innumerable children. Unconfined By shroud or coffin, disembodied souls, Uneasy spirits, steal into the air From festering graveyards when the curfew tolls At the day's death... And wheresoever murders have been done, In stately palaces or lonesome woods, Where'er a soul has sold itself and lost Its high inheritance, there, hovering, broods Some sad, invisible, accursÃ©d Ghost!”

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