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W Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with W. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All W Quotes

“When the kids see the poverty in their neighborhood, but they see these successful kids who come from the countries they come from, come from Mexico, come from Korea, come from the Philippines, come from Salvador, and were doing really well, it motivates them to do better. The former students give them a vision of what's possible.”

“When the kids were growing and Frank was still in construction, I made sure all our meals ended with something sweet. Frank deserved it. Sour cream brownies, banana pie made with vanilla wafers, lemon poppy-seed pound cake, strawberry shortcake, almond-scented tapioca, pecan blondies (oh... my... God, those are good), butter brickle ice cream with butterscotch, angel food cake with rhubarb compote, gingerbread with hard sauce, and on Saturday nights, peppermint ice cream sundaes topped with homemade hot fudge.”

“When the Kingdom Comes Your mother is not your mother, she is something else, a bird nesting in the heart of a hollowed out tree, a saint whose skin is cool and soft as apple-flesh, the will of God. And your brothers are not your brothers, they are the ash that is all of us, scattered in its periphery, unfortunate multitude. Your sister, your lover, your friend none of these are yours. The stone belongs only to the river which bled it smooth. What you call your face, that canvas of mercy which smiles with grief at even November's drizzle and chill, is the face of someone else, someone to come, good tidings, the Christ child in a stable, cooing as Mary tends such tiny hands. It is her face that seems so familiar, the answer to everything whetting the tip of your tongue. The hairs on your head, they belong only to themselves, and when they are done with such a manner of belonging, they offer themselves to stars which outnumber them galacticly. Everything you think is yours is not. A father had two sons, and one of them was heavy with desire. Friend—what's lost is found, forever. You will wear the very best robe. You will wear rings on every finger of each hand. And they are not your hands. They are God's hands and She formed you with them Herself turning tricks with clay until finally the sand sang alleluia, and it was good. These hands, She will hold like treasure all the way to Paradise, where under the glimmer of the moon and the spark of light that fuels every prayer, She keeps her family. And we will all be there. And we will all be.”

“When the kirtan is harmonious with so many people, it’s a tumultuous beautiful sound. We can’t hear just one voice during the chorus; or rather we do hear one voice. But that one voice is actually the sound of everyone’s voice in harmony. That’s our offering to God. And why is it so pleasing to the Lord? Because we are all cooperating for a higher purpose. We are all united for the pleasure of the center, for the pleasure of Krishna, in spite of all our differences.”

“When the Kyoto Protocol enters into the force tomorrow, the world will take a significant and long-awaited first step towards stemming global warming. Instead of stepping forward as the world leader on climate change, however, the Bush Administration is clinging to the role of world obstructionist.”

“When the Labor Department is forced to relent and let these visitors do this work it is of course all legal. But it makes one wonder about the illegal alien fuss. Are great numbers of our unemployed really victims of the illegal alien invasion or are those illegal tourists actually doing work our own people won't do? One thing is certain in this hungry world; no regulation or law should be allowed if it results in crops rotting in the field for lack of harvesters.”

“When the Lakota leader Sitting Bull was asked by a white reporter why his people loved and respected him, Sitting Bull replied by asking if it was not true that among white people a man is respected because he has many horses, many houses? When the reporter replied that was indeed true, Sitting Bull then said that his people respected him because he kept nothing for himself.”

“When the landscape buckles and jerks around, when a dust column of debris rises from the collapse of a block of buildings on bodies that could have been your own, when the staves of history fall awry and the barrel of time bursts apart, some turn to prayer, some to poetry: words in the memory, a stained book carried close to the body, the notebook scribbled by hand--a center of gravity.”

“When the last autumn of Dickens's life was over, he continued to work through his final winter and into spring. This is how all of us writers give away the days and years and decades of our lives in exchange for stacks of paper with scratches and squiggles on them. And when Death calls, how many of us would trade all those pages, all that squandered lifetime-worth of painfully achieved scratches and squiggles, for just one more day, one more fully lived and experienced day? And what price would we writers pay for that one extra day spent with those we ignored while we were locked away scratching and squiggling in our arrogant years of solipsistic isolation? Would we trade all those pages for a single hour? Or all of our books for one real minute?”

“When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victim's body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.”

“When the last peak died away, Alan opened his eyes. Huiann was watching his face. He was embarrassed until he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. He touched her cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” His sticky spunk was all over her hand and his belly and he felt like a fool. He reached to grab the undershirt he’d tossed aside and wiped both of them clean. “I’m sorry.” “No. No, Alan.” She touched her fingers to his mouth. “Gou. It is good. You face is beau-ti-ful.” She pronounced each syllable with exquisite care. He kissed the fingers pressed to his lips. “No, you’re beautiful. A damn miracle.”

“When the late Pope John Paul II decided to place the woman so strangely known as “Mother” Teresa on the fast track for beatification, and thus to qualify her for eventual sainthood, the Vatican felt obliged to solicit my testimony and I thus spent several hours in a closed hearing room with a priest, a deacon, and a monsignor, no doubt making their day as I told off, as from a rosary, the frightful faults and crimes of the departed fanatic. In the course of this, I discovered that the pope during his tenure had surreptitiously abolished the famous office of “Devil’s Advocate,” in order to fast‐track still more of his many candidates for canonization. I can thus claim to be the only living person to have represented the Devil pro bono.”