Collector Inspirational Quotes

Be wary of strong drink, it can make you shoot at the tax collector...and miss.

Mister Dresden," he said. "And Miss Rodriguez, I believe. I didn't realize you were an art collector." "I am the foremost collector of velvet Elvii in the city of Chicago," I said at once. "Elvii?" Marcone inquired. "The plural could be Elvises, I guess," I said. "But if I say that too often, I start muttering to myself and calling things 'my precious,' so I usually go with the Latin plural.

Sometimes broken things deserve to be repaired.

He is the same, but everything is different.

Some people would say- you're only a drop, your word-breaking is only a drop, it wouldn't matter. But all the evil in the world's made up of little drops. It's silly talking about the unimportance of the little drops. The little drops and the ocean are the same thing.

Peace is a product of both patience and persistence.

Knowledge is always one of the fiercest of advantages a lady can have.

You use your life.

The world was full of collectors, scouring the earth for pieces of themselves.

Ah, yes- 'God is love' and all that rot. Tell me, have you ever really stopped to think about what that means? Love is cruel. Love is vicious. Love inspires people to kill, to maim, to torture. Love ruins lives, fells cities, destroys civilizations. If you ask me, love's not all it's cracked up to be. But then, you shouldn't have to ask me - you should only have to reflect on where love has gotten you." - Lilith

That's life you know? It is all one big waiting room. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. And then, like you, sometimes it's great.

I tell myself: This time could be different. I rationalize: It's not like the past can be changed. I fear: I lost everything before. And yet... I hope.

She glanced around at the tombstones. “You’re surrounded by death here. Way too depressing. You really might want to think about getting another job.” “You see death and sadness in these sunken patches of dirt, I see lives lived fully and the good deeds of past generations influencing the future ones.

Puede sentirse la quietud en el aire, como el instante antes de respirar. No solo está todo en silencio, está amortiguado. Es la soledad, supongo, por naturaleza y no por elección.

Karma: The delusion of the pretentious; who think the Universe should act as their debt collector.

Well, yes, there were quite a lot of books throughout, tumbling out of haphazardly placed bookshelves, stacked beneath chairs, beside beds, even in the bottoms of a closet or two. But I was never a "collector." My love of books is a love of what they contain; they hold knowledge as a pitcher holds water, as a dress contains the mystery of a woman's exquisite body. Their physicality matters--do not speak to me of storing books as bytes!--but they should not inspire fetishistic devotion.

Upon reading, great stories by Great Spirits, the glorious inspiration penetrated our soul; we can’t help but to shed tears. It was a soul soothing and a deep spiritual awaken.

Andamos por la vida con nuestras cicatrices, y a veces el dolor es tan real como el recuerdo.

Sin importar lo que pase, jamás permitirá que el mundo la destroce para siempre.

Just because you can't express your feelings it doesn't mean they're not deep

He dumped its contents out on the tablecloth: a gold ring, a gold nugget, and a gold signet seal. Francisco pointed to each. I told you that this was the secret of happiness. The three objects belonged to a rich collector. When he was asleep they argued all the time. The gold ring declared it was better than the other two because miners had risked their lives to find it. The gold signet said it was better than the other two because it had sealed the messages of a king. They argued day and night, until the ring said. ‘Lets ask God’, He will decide which of us is the best. The other two agreed, and so they approached the Almighty. Each made its claim for being superior. God listened carefully, and when they were done, he said, ‘ I cant settle your dispute, I’m sorry. The gold signet seal grew angry ‘What do you mean, you cant settle it? You’re God.’ That’s the problem said God. I don’t see a ring, a nugget and a seal. All I see is gold.

I'm inspired by dreams and shadows, obsession and desire. By nature, I'm a dream collector and never stop working. I question people about their weirdest dreams and the strangest, most inexplicable experiences they've had. All this information whirls around in my mind, and new dreams emerge that form the seeds of stories and novels.

God often uses failure to make us useful. When Jesus called the disciples, He did not go out and find the most qualified and successful people. He found the most willing, and He found them in the workplace. He found a fisherman, a tax collector, and a farmer. The Hebrews knew that failure was a part of maturing in God. The Greeks used failure as a reason for disqualification. Sadly, in the Church, we often treat one another in this way. This is not God's way. We need to understand that failing does not make us failures. It makes us experienced. It makes us more prepared to be useful in God's Kingdom -- if we have learned from it. And that is the most important ingredient for what God wants in His children.

I was sure that I was going to write stories myself when I grew up. It’s important to put it like that - not "I am a writer," but rather "I write stories." If you put the emphasis on yourself rather than your work, you’re in danger of thinking that you’re the most important thing. But you’re not. The story is what matters, and you’re only the servant, and your job is to get it out on time and in good order.

Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I’d thought about him in his underwear. Much. He was talking with his friend Nathan. Where Bryce had the whole tan, blond, hazel-eyed thing going on, Nathan was fair with dark hair and dark eyes. They looked like opposite sides of the same coin. A really hot, totally unreachable coin that a collector would keep in a special locked case, which normal girls like myself were not allowed to touch.

You English have a saying. "Come to your senses."' 'Yes.' 'What do you think it means?' 'It means to be reasonable, sensible.' She looked across at him. 'Doesn't it?' 'Maybe.' His eyes caught the afternoon light; flickering amber, flecked with green. 'What else could it mean?' 'Perhaps it's an invitation. Maybe we need to literally come to our senses, to return to our sense of taste, touch, sight, smell, hearing and find sustenance in them, inspiration. Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.

Let those souls who think their work has no value recognize that by fulfilling their insignificant tasks out of a love of God, those tasks assume a supernatural worth. The aged who bear the taunts of the young, the sick crucified to their beds, the ignorant immigrant in the steel mill, the street cleaner and the garbage collector, the wardrobe mistress in the theater and the chorus girl who never had a line, the unemployed carpenter and the ash collector — all these will be enthroned above dictators, presidents, kings, and cardinals if a greater love of God inspires their humbler tasks than inspires those who play nobler roles with less love.

For Hadrian, important journeys were made as the principal representative of Rome and Rome’s power. They ensured a permanent place for himself within the landscape of the empire and within history. But from the incessant nature of his travelling it can be assumed that his was probably also a personal search for an exemplary, inspiring past, a hope of revelation and a prospect of transformation. He collected things, particularly beautiful things; but he was also an almost compulsive collector of ideas and experiences. Any journey is a set within the greater journey from birth to the grave, and Hadrian was not the first to use travel as an illusion of evaded mortality.

Whatever accumulated wealth is in surplus of their needs, good people donate it for good causes; Karna, Bali, Vikramaditya, these kings are even remembered today due to their charity; the honey-bees store up honey, and then some honey-collector takes all the accumulated honey away; neither did the honey-bees themselves enjoy their stored up honey, nor did they give it in charity; all they do now is rub both their legs in regret.

By finding a way to keep gratitude as a constant companion, the blessings of joy and contentment become our reward.

When we are truly awake and present in ourselves and to each other and the world around us, miracles abound.

Death is a hard lesson, and yet, the seeds of awakening can be found in acceptance of its inevitability.

Is it me that you’re laughing at?” he eyed me curiously with an arched brow. “Yep,” I confessed, “but it’s not a bad thing, promise.” Ffamran snorted himself and ran a talon through his long white hair. “Though I don’t mind being a pawn for your amusement in this situation, I fail to see how I have done anything humorous.” “It’s the hair.” I continued to chuckle at his indignity. “It’s just so voluminous for a dragon.” “My hair is a symbol of my noble birth.” Ffamran flipped his hair indignantly. “If anything, it should inspire awe and fear, not laughter.” “Honestly, it isn’t just the hair,” I said through a fit of laughter. “It’s your whole dancing sway thing.” I did a little wiggle myself and wound up falling onto my ass as Ffamran began to laugh with me. The sound emanated from his throat and shook the floor beneath my feet like a subwoofer turned up to a thousand percent. “I do not look anything like that,” he said once he’d caught his breath. “I’m much more graceful.” Then he did another little shimmy and followed it up with a truly devastating hair whip. “You could definitely learn a thing or two from me.” “It is a pretty good hair whip!” I conceded, still laughing. “It is truly magnificent,” he replied as he did it again. I couldn’t help myself. Laughter exploded from me as the dragon wiggled and danced while punctuating every movement with an epic hair flip.

The Bradford Exchange—a knockoff of [Joseph] Segel’s [Franklin Mint] business—created a murky secondary market for its collector plates, complete with advertisements featuring its “brokers” hovering over computers, tracking plate prices. To underscore the idea of these mass-produced tchotchkes as upmarket, sophisticated investments, the company deployed some of its most aggressive ads (which later led to lawsuits) in magazines like Kiplinger’s Personal Finance and Architectural Digest. A 1986 sales pitch offered “The Sound of Music,” the first plate in a new series from the Edwin M. Knowles China Company, at a price of $19.50. Yet the ad copy didn’t emphasize the plate itself. Rather, bold type introduced two so-called facts: “Fact: ‘Scarlett,’ the 1976 first issue in Edwin M. Knowles’ landmark series of collector’s plates inspired by the classic film Gone With the Wind, cost $21.60 when it was issued. It recently traded at $245.00—an increase of 1,040% in just seven years.” And “Fact: ‘The Sound of Music,’ the first issue in Knowles’ The Sound of Music series, inspired by the classic film of the same name, is now available for $19.50.” Later the ad advised that “it’s likely to increase in value.” Currently, those plates can be had on eBay for less than $5 each. In 1993 U.S. direct mail sales of collectibles totaled $1.7 billion

My friend Jeffrey Deaver, successful author of The Bone Collector and many other thrillers, confessed once that his first short story, written as a child, was a Bond-inspired spy adventure (he refused to let me read it . . . afraid, maybe, that I might try to publish it as The Bond Collector).

...Maybe we need to literally come to our senses, to return to our sense of taste, touch, sight, smell, hearing and find sustenance in them, inspiration. Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.

My heart did not accept the collector's advice -and I always listen to my heart. What the collector said might be true but what would I lose- just a few hundred rupees?

Winning is not life, fighting for third place is.

,,Getting 80 percent of the taxes meant they could also collect 80 percent of the souls when their time came. So you were barely dead and a collector was already at the gate ready to suck the last breath out of you. Everybody hated them, absolutely everyone, no matter the clan they belonged to, or their lineage, or their social status. Nobody said their names and those who joined the League were consigned to oblivion. And yet, there was talk about soldiers who paid to get their freedom and came back from the League. But nobody knew how they had done that and the Journalists who had investigated the topic came back disappointed and quit the profession altogether. There was also much talk about some form of resistance, which seemingly had achieved more, about some sort of liberation movement, but nothing of what was going on in the lake area could be connected to the rumours.

Once again, Jesus touches someone who shouldn’t be touched, for according to the law, contact with a corpse was also considered nonkosher and demanded a period of quarantine and ritual washing. In all three stories, the point isn’t just that Jesus healed these people; the point is that Jesus touched these people. He embraced them just as he embraced other disparaged members of society, often regarded as “sinners” by the religious and political elite—prostitutes, tax collectors, Samaritans, Gentiles, the sick, the blind, and the deaf.