Browns Quotes

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

Great minds are always feared by lesser minds.

I would have lived in peace. But my enemies brought me war.

Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark.

You do not follow me because I am the strongest. Pax is. You do not follow me because I am the brightest. Mustang is. You follow me because you do not know where you are going. I do.

Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dog And that's what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo And he let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meant And his father always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season And that's what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars And left butts on the pews And sometimes they would burn holes That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Claus And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot And his father never tucked him in bed at night And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it. Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem And he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girl And that's what it was all about And his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her That was the year that Father Tracy died And he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed went And he caught his sister making out on the back porch And his mother and father never kissed or even talked And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundly That's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem And he called it "Absolutely Nothing" Because that's what it was really all about And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen.

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La. They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.

God answers all prayers, but sometimes his answer is 'no'.

I took a bite of cookie and chewed. “Hmmm,” I said, trying not to spit crumbs. “Clear vanilla notes, too-sweet chocolate chips, distinct flavor of brown sugar. A decent cookie, not spectacular. Still, a good-hearted cookie, not pretentious.” I turned to Fang. “What say you?” “It’s fine.” Some people just don’t have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.

So there you have it, the extent of my charms: brown hair and eyes like unbarfed chocolate. I'm a lucky girl." -Max

Friendships take minutes to make, moments to break, years to repair.

The measure of a man is what he does when he has power.

I will die. You will die. We will all die and the universe will carry on without care. All that we have is that shout into the wind - how we live. How we go. And how we stand before we fall.

The only queer people are those who don't love anybody.

I am the Reaper and death is my shadow.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.

You and I keep looking for light in the darkness, expecting it to appear. But it already has.” I touch his shoulder. “We’re it, boyo. Broken and cracked and stupid as we are, we’re the light, and we’re spreading.

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” said Ito finally, who had been keeping very quiet
up to this point.
“Indeed. How much will it cost?” asked Brown
“About twenty million Interplanetary Credits,” said Demba. “A modest investment for
a man of your means.”
“Indeed,” said Brown again. That was all the money he had, which started to strike
him as strange, when his thoughts were interrupted.
“We’ll arrange a visit to the mine,” said Ito. “Show you the place itself.”
“Indeed,” said Brown. Or had he said that? The strange waking memory he had fallen
into started to become repetitive. Reality started to flow back in.
Diamonds, thought Brown. All those diamonds in that mine.

Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears.

Tell me something, Violence.” A muscle in his square jaw ticks as he stares down at me, rippling the tawny-brown skin of his stubbled cheek. “Why is it always you?

Do you still distrust me?” “No. Take your necklace with you so you can think of me when I’m not there.”
Brown brought the necklace over to her and put it on her neck.
“I think it rather suits me,” she laughed and left.
Brown didn’t understand what had made him insist she wear the necklace. Maybe it
was the readiness with which she had made love, or her frequent disappearances lately,
he was just curious. There was no harm in checking, before he parted with the money.
Later that evening, before going to sleep he decided to have a look at her location and
he was in for a surprise. She had not left Central City at all. In fact she was at the same
friend’s address as she had been the last time.

Man is no island. We need those who love us. We need those who hate us. We need others to tether us to life, to give us a reason to live, to feel.

We grew together, and now are grown. In her eyes, I see my heart. In her breath, I hear my soul. She is my land. She is my kin. My love.

Well, here I am, you deviant bitch. Here I bloody am. The motherfucking consequence.

Love is certainly never safe, but it’s absolutely worth it.

Life is meant to be felt. Else why live? Valleys make the mountains.

Escape plan #5: Open an alpaca ranch in Texas, one that requires all blond-haired, brown-eyed, brainy girls to wear sexy cowgirl outfits.

All that we have is that shout into the wind--how we live. How we go. And how we stand before we fall. --Karnus Au Bellona

Science is not the truth. Science is finding the truth. When science changes its opinion, it didn’t lie to you. It learned more.

I put my fingers around the unmarked ring of the spyglass and twisted. The scene became clear. Oh no! A hairy brown spider clung to a vine! I couldn't go there! I'd go to the desert to find a dragon. I began to reset the spyglass, but then I stopped myself. A spider was worse than a dragon? No. My first monsters would be spiders, then.

Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M. B. loves a fair gentlema. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschole with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs VErschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love a certain person. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.

Please accept this humble fax. My love for you is without wax.

All right," Shannen says slowly, tucking a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Why did you glue that dolphin upside down?" Okay, so I'm a little distracted. "He's doing the back stroke.

Wholehearted living is about engaging with our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion and connection to wake up in the morning and think, ‘No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough.’ It’s going to bed at night thinking, ‘Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.

There's a girl with brown eyes who reminds me of the first book I ever loved. When I look at her, I feel like there might be another universe in her. I imagine her on a shelf too high for me to reach, or peeking out of someone else's backpack, or at the end of a long wait at the library. I know there are other books that are easier to get my hands on, but none are half as good as her. Every part of her seems to have a purpose, a specific meaning, an exact reason for being how and what and where it is.

Do not fear for me. Instead, pity them.

Stillness is not about focusing on nothingness; it’s about creating a clearing. It’s opening up an emotionally clutter-free space and allowing ourselves to feel and think and dream and question.

I can dive", Sophia said. "Do you know what it feels like when you dive?" Of course I do," her grandmother said. "You let go of everything and get ready and just dive. You can feel the seaweed against your legs. It's brown, and the water's clear, lighter towards the top, with lots of bubbles. And you glide. You hold your breath and glide and turn and come up, let yourself rise and breathe out. And then you float. Just float." And all the time with your eyes open," Sophia said. Naturally. People don't dive with their eyes shut." Do you believe I can dive without me showing you?" the child asked. Yes, of course", Grandmother said.

Uh.. you'er Sophie?" Mrianda ventured "That's me" "How old areyou?" Sophie rolled ker wide brown eyes, "Ahunderd and forty-eight" she relied. "I got to live back when women coulden't vote, isn't that awesome?

If we want to cultivate hopefulness, we have to be willing to be flexible and demonstrate perseverance. Not every goal will look and feel the same. Tolerance for disappointment, determination, and a belief in self are the heart of hope.

Merlin stood up. For once, late as it was, he was pleased to see the Assistant Commissioner because he had been trying unsuccessfully to get hold of him all day. “May I introduce Detective Bernard Goldberg of the New York Police Department.” Merlin held out a hand to the stocky young man now standing on the AC’s right. Detective Goldberg was an inch or two shorter than Merlin, with a closely cropped head of dark-brown hair and the crumpled face of a man who might have walked into a wall.

Food for thought.... It took the earths population thousands of years (from early dawn of mankind to early 1800) to reach 1 billion people. Then astoundingly, it took only 100 years to double it to 2 billion in 1920. After that, it merely took 50 years for the population to double again to 4 billion in 1970's. Today, we are on track to reach 8 billion. Just today, the human race added a quarter million people (250,000) to the human race. And this happens every day- rain or shine.

I return the smile, wondering what this is between us. Dreading the idea of having to define it. There’s an easiness that comes with being around her. But I’m afraid to ask her what she’s thinking. Afraid to broach the subject for fear of shattering this little illusion of peace.

God give me strength to accept those things that I cannot change.

I think people stopped trusting each other, but before that they stopped listening to each other and stopped respecting each other. I also think the majority of people really want to be led. If their leaders are good, they are led to good, but if they are not, then they are not. If our leaders lack virtue and are too selfish or spineless to defend the weak, how can we expect those they lead to be any different.

If she gives me her heart, I'll break it. My lie is too great to build a love upon. When she discovers what I am, she will reject me. Even if she could survive that, I would not. I look at my hands as if the answer is there. "Darrow. Ask me to stay." When I look up, she is gone.

The next dish arrived, a small bowl of morels cooked in brown butter served with maitake mushroom broth, complex and unctuous. The morels were harvested the year before, pickled and preserved, and served with a hand-carved appetizer fork. The concentration of flavor brought images of the woods to her mind, from the mossy forest floor to the tree canopy high above. This dish was followed by marigold flowers fried in an incredibly light tempura and then salted, served with an egg yolk dipping sauce. Then walnut "tofu," surrounded by grilled rose petals, topped with a sunflower seed mole, herbs, and tiny flowers, and a caramelized milk tart stuffed with cheese and thinly sliced black truffles, the flavor nutty and savory. "That's better than sex," Cassie overheard Eamon say from across the table, eyes closed and head back in rapture.

Then they were served a small beeswax cup filled with flowers and crunchy bee pollen, followed by a presentation of a large shawarma, or at least what looked like a shawarma, adorned with roasted onions and rosemary, cut tableside. Pia explained that it was not made from lamb or chicken, as is traditional, but instead from celery root and truffles, before it was cooked on a spit for hours. One of the chefs used a large knife to slice off thin pieces of the "meat," plating it with greens, roasted apple, and red currants, before smothering the plate in a brown "jus." Cassie cut off a small bite and was surprised by how much it tasted like meat. It was earthy, salty, sweet, rich, and incredibly delicious. "Well, this is way better than the shawarma cart in my neighborhood," said Rebecca, practically licking her plate. "No kidding," agreed Ben, soaking up the jus with a fat slice of sourdough bread.

Never sit on a fence. It will make your butt flat, she said. Either you are in or out.

Aunt Gracie always said that when opportunity knocked to invite it in and feed it chocolate cake.

Aren't you a cutie," Evie said, picking up the fawn-colored dog. His dominant breed was clearly pug, but he was mixed with something else. "Hey, Odessa, any idea what the pug is mixed with? Looks like maybe a beagle?" Evie called. "That's what Doc thinks he's mixed with too," Odessa answered as she came into the room. "He was surrendered by his owner last week. The guy got him from a breeder as a gift for his girlfriend, but she wanted a miniature purebred pug and the breeder wouldn't give him a refund." She rubbed the dog behind the ear. "This one is a sweetie." "Does he have a name?" Evie asked. "He didn't come with one. He looks like an Oliver to me. Or maybe a Sam." "You know I hate when dogs have people names," Evie said. As she scratched the top of his head, she took in his coloring. His light brown coat reminded her of Butterball, the Pomeranian she'd rescued in the eighth grade. But the dark brown face and ears were hallmarks of a pug. "This brown spot on the top of his head is pretty unique," Evie said. "What if we call him Waffles?" Odessa plopped a hand on her hip. "So you'd rather name a dog after breakfast than after one of the greatest singers of all time, Sam Cooke?" "No offense to Sam Cooke, but Waffles is the perfect name for this cutie." Evie pointed to him. "Check out the shape of the dark brown spot on his head. It looks like a splash of syrup. "You're a cute little stack of waffles, aren't you?" She rubbed her nose to his as she continued the head scratch.

Spiff’s heart shattered in his chest as he stood helpless watching his son’s body twitch in his arms. Magic’s piercing screams snapped him out of his initial state of shock. “HE’S SIEZING!

Spiff turned his back to everyone and found a chair near the door, he wasn’t leaving the hospital until he got to see his son and he didn’t care what anyone said. Running his hand across his head he leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Every nerve in his body was twitching with anger and he wanted to unleash it so bad, and soon he would. If he lost his son, everybody in the town of Charlotte was gonna feel it.

He’s gonna kill me, you didn’t see the look in his eyes. He’s not going to let this go.” Her eyes searched Bear’s and he saw just how scared she was. He knew he needed to do something; he just didn’t know what. “Not if I kill him first.

There were two pale brown beauty marks on the inside of his left arm, and a flimsy net of pink scars in the palm of his left hand. He filled the room like a horizon.

Seeing how easily people could be manipulated with just fear and rumor, the Overseer wondered if they even needed to bother.

Love found me at the sushi restaurant with no life behind my smile. Cascading curls framed her deep brown eyes,

I define calm as creating perspective and mindfulness while managing emotional reactivity. When I think about calm people, I think about people who can bring perspective to complicated situations and feel their feelings without reacting to heightened emotions like fear and anger.

Together, the two of you will create a family. Perhaps there will be biological children or adopted children, perhaps not. Perhaps you will live to celebrate sixty-three years of marriage, as Nonie and Pops did, perhaps not. Perhaps you will always be madly in love, perhaps you will not. Life is uncertain, especially given the current state of the world, but what you are doing today is permanent. The two of you will be bound together through this life and the next, in a way that I do not understand but know to be true. I say all of this to scare you just a little,”—he offered me a hint of a smile—“to make sure you are in fact aware that what you are committing to today is not the stuff of fairy tales, it is not about happily ever after. It is about real life, real struggles, real disagreements, and real love. It will not be easy … but it will be worth it.

You, Bria, are his vocation, just as you, Jonah, are Bria’s vocation. It is through your marriage that you will feel most clearly God’s love and trials. There is no love without sacrifice, and on this day you must each die to yourself and place the other person before you. While this is an important truth for Bria, and all brides, I believe it to be even more true for Jonah, and all grooms. They are called to be like Christ, to offer their bodies for their brides. They are called to sacrifice in a way that an unmarried man like myself will never fully understand.

It is a truth,” Eli said, “a truth that we joke about, but a truth nonetheless. Married women sacrifice. I do not deny that, especially the one married to my brother.” Eli and Josh both laughed. “But there is something about women that allows this sacrifice to come more fully and more easily. Certainly, I speak in generalities, but on the whole, men struggle most in marriages, to learn and understand who they are in relation to their wives and children. Men struggle most with selfishness that does not allow them to see their wives as someone they give to, rather than take from. Jonah, you have always been giving, but you have always been selfish. I say this not to hurt you but to love you. Bria, while you struggled so long to see yourself as worthy, you have been worthy all along. Your heart is pure, so very pure, and I understand clearly why my brother began falling in love with you the instant he saw you on that deserted highway. Sacrifice will be easy for you, but you must allow Jonah to walk beside you. You must allow him to sacrifice and give as well, or you will be withholding from him a key part of his vocation and you will both suffer.

My grandfather always told me some fear was good. It kept you safe. The rest was from the devil. It kept you controlled.

God had become the one her every breath was for. She

...As a scientist and the daughter of a Catholic priest, what do you think of religion?" Vittoria paused, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "Religion is like language or dress. We gravitate toward the practices with which we were raised. In the end, though, we are all proclaiming the same thing. That life has meaning. That we are grateful for the power that created us." Langdon was intrigued. "So you're saying that whether you are a Christian or a Muslim simply depends on where you were born?" "Isn't it obvious? Look at the diffusion of religion around the globe." "So faith is random?" "Hardly. Faith is universal. Our specific methods for understadning it are arbitrary. Some of us pray to Jesus, some of us go to Mecca, some of us study subatomic particles. In the end we are all just searching for truth, that which is greater than ourselves." Langdon wished his students could express themselves so clearly. Hell, he wished he could express himself so clearly. "And God?" he asked. "Do you believe in God?" Vittoria was silent for a long time. "Science tells me that God must exist. My mind tells me that I will never understand God. And my heart tells me I am not meant to.

...He tried to soften the church's position on science by proclaiming that science did not undermine the existence of God, but rather reinforced it. He wrote once that when he looked through his telescope at the spinning planets, he could hear God's voice in the music of the spheres. He held that science and religion were not enemies, but rather allies-two different languages telling the same story, a story of symmetry and balance ... heaven and hell, night and day, hot and cold, God and Satan. Both science and religion rejoiced in God's symmetry ... the endless contest of light and dark.

Langdon's legs felt rubbery as he stared down the gaping tunnel. "You're telling me that CERN dug out millions of tons of earth just to smash tiny particles?" Kohler shrugged. "Sometimes to find truth, one must move mountains.

Is it enough to live in a universe whose laws spontaneously create life? Or do you prefer ... God?” She paused, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, after all we’ve been through tonight, I know that’s a strange question.” “Well,” Langdon said with a laugh, “I think my answer would benefit from a decent night’s sleep. But no, it’s not strange. People ask me all the time if I believe in God.” “And how do you reply?” “I reply with the truth,” he said. “I tell them that, for me, the question of God lies in understanding the difference between codes and patterns.” Ambra glanced over. “I’m not sure I follow you.” “Codes and patterns are very different from each other,” Langdon said. “And a lot of people confuse the two. In my field, it’s crucial to understand their fundamental difference.” “That being?” Langdon stopped walking and turned to her. “A pattern is any distinctly organized sequence. Patterns occur everywhere in nature—the spiraling seeds of a sunflower, the hexagonal cells of a honeycomb, the circular ripples on a pond when a fish jumps, et cetera.” “Okay. And codes?” “Codes are special,” Langdon said, his tone rising. “Codes, by definition, must carry information. They must do more than simply form a pattern—codes must transmit data and convey meaning. Examples of codes include written language, musical notation, mathematical equations, computer language, and even simple symbols like the crucifix. All of these examples can transmit meaning or information in a way that spiraling sunflowers cannot.” Ambra grasped the concept, but not how it related to God. “The other difference between codes and patterns,” Langdon continued, “is that codes do not occur naturally in the world. Musical notation does not sprout from trees, and symbols do not draw themselves in the sand. Codes are the deliberate inventions of intelligent consciousnesses.” Ambra nodded. “So codes always have an intention or awareness behind them.” “Exactly. Codes don’t appear organically; they must be created.” Ambra studied him a long moment. “What about DNA?” A professorial smile appeared on Langdon’s lips. “Bingo,” he said. “The genetic code. That’s the paradox.” Ambra felt a rush of excitement. The genetic code obviously carried data — specific instructions on how to build organisms. By Langdon’s logic, that could mean only one thing. “You think DNA was created by an intelligence!” Langdon held up a hand in mock self-defense. “Easy, tiger!” he said, laughing. “You’re treading on dangerous ground. Let me just say this. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had the gut sense that there’s a consciousness behind the universe. When I witness the precision of mathematics, the reliability of physics, and the symmetries of the cosmos, I don’t feel like I’m observing cold science; I feel as if I’m seeing a living footprint ... the shadow of some greater force that is just beyond our grasp.

Langdon was starting to wonder if anyone had actually heard what Edmond was saying. The laws of physics alone can create life. Edmond’s discovery was enthralling and clearly incendiary, but for Langdon it raised one burning question that he was surprised nobody was asking: If the laws of physics are so powerful that they can create life … who created the laws?!

El hombre llega mucho más lejos para evitar lo que teme que para alcanzar lo que desea

Nothing is invented, for it's written in nature first - Antoni Gaudi

I am not looking for a singular glory here. I serve a far greater master than my own pride. The Truth.

The human mind has a primitive ego defense mechanism that negates all realities that produce too much stress for the brain to handle. It’s called Denial

My husband obviously trusted you, Mr. Langdon, so I do as well.

Dünyadaki tüm insanlar, dini öğretilerin gerçekten de ortak bir noktası bulunduğunu anlayacaklardı: Hepsinin tümden yanlış olduğunu.

With her tall, slender figure, a cloud of light brown hair, generous sulky mouth, and large blue eyes she was pronounced beautiful, and she thoroughly enjoyed the experience of being a débutante: the dances and balls and parties, riding in the crowded Row with her father, which was ‘like an amusing party taking place every day’,8 and, especially, meeting new people.

I’m down for a date.” Cami gave him a reassuring smile and he accepted it. Right now, he’ll take what he can get when it came to her.

What the fuck did you do?” Bear’s voice came booming through the living room. Porsha and Jayla’s eyes shot to him and neither of them said a word. They both knew what was to come so there was no need in dwelling over the obvious, now they needed to figure out how to fix it.