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Quote by Gagandeep Kaushal

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Gagandeep Kaushal

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“Tribute to a Godly Man I knew a man who gave his life To see revival fire He prayed by day, he prayed by night To birth this one desire He had but one obsession To see a glorious bride Arrayed in spotless purity Brought to her bridegroom's side His power won in the pulpit Was matched by very few And yet, he loved the closet There with the God he knew While others strove for man's applause For fortune or for fame He had but one ambition To exalt his master's name For 87 years he lived Just for eternity A man of faith and wisdom And true humility He knew one day he'd have to stand Before God's judgement seat And so he ran to win the prize His mission to complete The fortune that he left behind Was not in stocks or gold But lives transformed and challenged Their stories yet untold There is no greater privilege Than this that I have had Knowing this great man of God And having him as Dad ~David Ravenhill (author)”

“Of course I do. I’ve seen you upstairs every day, checking out book after book. You stay here reading long after every other student has gone home. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that someone who loves reading as much as you do can never be stopped. No matter where you go, you’ll have whole worlds in your head. No matter how hard life gets, you’ll have whole people’s lives worth of experience tucked away inside you. No matter how hard the world tries to silence you, there are millions and millions of words just waiting to burst from you.”

“DAISY:I had sex with Liam. LAYLA:Is that your idea of a joke? It's too early in the morning. DAISY:We broke my bed and my desk and my collection of Disney princess teacups. LAYLA:OMG. I can't even... Are you CRAZY? DAISY:Maybe. LAYLA:He's supposed to be your FAKE fiancé. DAISY:It was just a onetime thing. I'm about to send him home. He's sleeping on my collection of stuffed pigs because there are splinters in my sheets. LAYLA:What are you going to do when your dad comes home? DAISY:Tell him I had a nightmare. LAYLA:I hope it's a nightmare and Sam is going to wake me up and I'll be in my bed not texting you in the middle of the night. DAISY:It was soooooo goooood. LAYLA:Stop. You're hurting my eyes. DAISY:He's waking up. LAYLA:We need to talk about this. Send him home now. Don't do anything stupid. DAISY:GTG. He wants MORE!”

“It's posh, but there is a kind of freshness to it... not lemony, but..." "Pennyroyal," said Polly, looking at Guy, who pointed his left forefinger at her as he swung back onto his stool. "Mint. I normally hate mint in anything, but it works here." "Bang on it. Just a tinge of toothpaste among all the earthy stuff to freshen it up, that was my thought." "And a very soft rose," said Polly. "I think there's a lot more to come, this is a very quiet beginning for you. What are you calling this one?" "First Light," said Guy. "I went for rose because they are one of the flowers that smell best in the morning- but not too much, because it's really all about what comes next. Do you like the name? I was going to call it Dawn's Crack, but thought better of it. But what is going to come through next is lots of lovely orris root, which has that musky morning bed smell to me- and it all just said 'waking up in the morning after serious hanky panky', so I went with that. And then there's the idea that you can experience first light after a long night without sleep, which I also like.”

“Sometimes I think the books that affect us most are fantasy books. I don't mean books in the fantasy genre; I don't even mean the books we fantasize about writing but don't write. What I'm thinking of here are the books we know about — from their titles, from reading reviews, or hearing people talk about them — but haven't, over a period of time, actually read. Books that can therefore have a presence, or exert a pressure in our lives and thinking, that may have little to do with what's actually inside them.”

“The soft glow of the afternoon light fills my apartment, casting a warm embrace over everything it touches. It's 4:30 PM, and the distant hum of the city seeps through the windows, a subtle reminder of life beyond these walls. Maddie lies beside me with sunlight playing across her skin, turning it into a canvas of peaches and cream. I'm captivated by how the light accentuates her form's softness, the delicate peach fuzz that covers her, and the single white hair amidst my chest hairs that she idly twirls with her fingers. 'We've been lucky this weekend,' I murmur, the words barely a whisper, lost in the moment's tranquility. She laughs softly, a sound that fills the room with warmth. 'I'm sorry for not being quieter earlier... I hope Mrs. Halverson didn't hear.' 'I shake my head, smiling at the thought of my elderly neighbor. "She's probably out with Mr. Piffles, enjoying the afternoon.' Reluctantly, I slide out of bed, feeling the cool air against my skin. I dress quietly, aware of Maddie's gaze following me. She doesn't say anything, but we both know the weekend is drawing to a close, and reality awaits us. As I finish getting dressed, Maddie watches me silently. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she reclines in bed, striking a pose reminiscent of Goya’s La Maja Desnuda. 'Do I compare to Pepita Tudó?' she asks, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 'You're far prettier,' I assure her, and I mean every word.”