Curtis Snow Quotes

I love everything that's old- old friends, old times, old manners, old books. Oliver Goldsmith

Long before silver bells jingled, Christmas lights twinkled, and horse-drawn sleighs went dashing through the snow, God reached down from heaven with the best gift of all. Love, wrapped in swaddling clothes. Hope, nestled in a manger.

Nowadays they hate for nothin’. You ain’t even gotta have nothin’. They hatin’ on homeless people and shit. Like, “How he get him another plate? Aw man, hell naw. Fuck that homeless nigga.” 2Pac told you muhfuckas will hate you for whatever you do, good or bad. No matter what. So you might as well get used to it.

No one knows the weight of another's burden

The moon & sun were just friends til that night the sun couldn’t depart before dark snowed in under an avalanche of stars & poetry was born.

Either we die here in the snow or we die fighting. I prefer the hard way.

control. The Japanese public had soaked it up. A pile of fan mail nearly a foot high landed daily on the desk of Pearl Harbor attack architect Adm. Isoroku Yamamoto, while after the capture of Singapore thousands of adoring subjects serenaded the emperor with shouts of “banzai.” Residents couldn’t thumb through a newspaper or tune in

Gordon could ignore his conscience, but he could not disregard the Almighty.

But you are not ungrateful, you never have been. Always, you could see the whirling constellation of wonders that makes up your life. God, there is just so much to love. Dust motes lit up by stage lights, the creak of a book’s binding when it’s opened for the first time, the ache in the back of your throat from singing too loud, the whirring noise of a light bulb as it’s flicked on, a warm blanket in a cold room, a kiss when you didn’t know you needed one, dark pencils, the wet snuffle of a dog’s nose, strangers who say ‘Bless you’ when you sneeze, mahogany, the dusty silk of flower petals, good lines in bad poems, the watercolour mess of sunset, snow, liquid-ink pens and more. So much more.

No one knows the weight of another’s burden. GEORGE HERBERT

Grievous words stir up anger.

Out the window, the trees were bare and scrawny-looking, and the road was lined with dirty snow from the week before. I actually liked the desolation of winter; it was the season when it was okay to be unhappy.