"Common-sense knowledge is prompt, categorical, and inexact."

--

Susanne Katherina Langer

#Common Sense Quotes #Common Quotes

“Go! Go! Go! It makes no difference where, just so you go! go! go! Remember, at the first opportunity, go!”
“I've sold shoes, hawked newspapers, jerked sodas, gazed rapturously at the tinsel dream at the end of a runway from my usher's aisle in a burley-cue, drove a truck - then because I didn't like being pushed around, started pushing a pencil around.”
“Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.”
“All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to, and to resist, the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable.”
“Why do we go around acting as though everything was friendship and reliability when basically everything everywhere is full of sudden hate and ugliness?”
“I have one quote I very often read to myself, from a very good friend: 'Forget the people around you now; remember the little boy who was racing in go-karts, what you were dreaming of and what he wanted to achieve one day and what was his goal. Race for him.'. I fell in love with the sport, I love racing. The amount of satisfaction I get just going around in a Formula 1 car makes me smile. So if it is a bad day then you tend to come out and say it's horrible and you don't enjoy. But if you had to pick between that and doing nothing, you would always pick that.”

Source : "Biography/ Personal Quotes". www.imdb.com.
“Writing songs does not get any easier, and that might be because I am harder on myself than I was twenty years ago. Hopefully, as we grow older and change, there are fresh topics, new perspectives, or at least there should be.”

Source : Source: therumpus.net
“I sat in the gradually chilling room, thinking of my whole past the way a drowning man is supposed to, and it seemed part of the present, part of the gray cold and the beggar woman without a face and the moulting birds frozen to their own filth in the Orangerie. I know now I was in the throes of some small glandular crisis, a sublimated bilious attack, a flick from the whip of melancholia, but then it was terrifying...nameless....”

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