Laura Bush Quotes

Libraries allow children to ask questions about the world and find the answers. And the wonderful thing is that once a child learns to use a library, the doors to learning are always open.

I turned to books for comfort.

I think it’s important that (Roe v. Wade) remain legal for medical reasons and other reasons.

As long as we have books, we are not alone.

There is nothing political about American literature.

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

Libraries offer, for free, the wisdom of the ages--and sages--and, simply put, there's something for everyone inside.

There Laura spent many happy hours, supposed to be picking fruit for jam, but for the better part of the time reading or dreaming. One corner, overhung by a Samson tree and walled in with bushes and flowers, she called her 'green study'.

She referred to the library, any library, as a sanctuary. She made a point of visiting them when we were on vacation, as though they were a common tourist attraction. The only time I ever heard her talk politics was when she found out Laura Bush was a librarian. She was so excited. “Think of how much funding they’ll get,” she gushed.

Maybe it is the media that has us divided.

I was born upon the prairie, where the wind blew free, and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures, and where everything drew a free breath.

Reading will give you lasting pleasure.

So, I'm lying on the couch and Laura walks in and I say, 'Free at last,' and she says 'You're free all right, you're free to do the dishes.' So I say, 'You're talking to the former president, baby,' and she said, 'consider this your new domestic policy agenda.

My problem was not only drinking; it was selfishness. The booze was leading me to put myself ahead of others, especially my family. I loved Laura and the girls too much to let that happen. Faith showed me a way out.

I was falling hard for Laura. I was not much of a cat person, but I knew our relationship was solid when I bonded with her black-and-white shorthair, Dewey, named for the decimal system.

I felt as though my mind and heart had been dragged through a thicket of rose bushes and caught on every little thorn.

We must choose between a world of fear and a world of progress. We cannot stand by and do nothing while dangers gather.

Wherever she spoke, Laura never failed to thank the military for their patriotism and their courage and to express sympathy for those who lost their loved ones. In private, Laura was the same way.

We were a perfect match. I’m a talker; Laura is a listener. I am restless; she is calm. I can get a little carried away; she is practical and down-to-earth. Above all, she is genuine and natural. There is no phoniness about her. Her appeal was immediate and constant. In August, I went to visit my family in Kennebunkport, planning to stay for a week. After one night, I flew back to Texas to be with Laura.

The theft of brown women's narratives is not only an injustice placed on them, but also one extended to their male counterparts; by insisting they need to be liberated from their 'barbaric' civilization, Laura [Bush] summoned the colonial assertion that brown women need saving from brown men, when, in actuality, brown women have suffered at the hands of white men more than at those of any other oppressor in history.

The president doesn't have the luxury of behaving like a smart-aleck kid on a school playground; he has to work not just with Congress but with leaders around the world.

Ostensibly, the Bushes seemed to be the antithesis of their predecessors, unencumbered by rumors of marital infidelity or financial improprieties.

I Read, I Smoke, I Admire.

Bush, Barbara. Barbara Bush: A Memoir. New York: Scribner, 1994. Bush, Laura. Spoken from the Heart. New York: Scribner,

What is it?” she asks as she begins undressing. “Nothing.” Temper snorts. “Bitch, we’ve been friends for nearly a decade. Stop beating off the bush—” I wince. “Around, Temper. Beating around the bush.

When the Holy Father passed away in 2005, Laura, Dad, Bill Clinton, and I flew together to his funeral in Rome. It was the first time an American president had attended the funeral of a pope, let alone brought two of his predecessors.

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you. If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here. No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you. — DAVID WAGONER, “Lost

There was no time to lose, no time to waste in rest or play. The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime. All the wild seeds of weed and thistle, the sprouts of vine and bush and tree, are trying to take the fields. Farmers must fight them with harrow and plow and hoe; they must plant the good seeds quickly.

Both here and in Russia, he repeatedly chided Putin for cracking down on the press, telling the Russian president that his country had to have a free press, that a free press is essential for a democracy. “You need to have an independent press,” George would tell him. And Putin would invariably reply, “Well, you control your press.” George would shake his head and say, “No, Vladimir, I don’t. I wish sometimes that I could control them, but I can’t. They are free to say whatever they want. In our country, the press is free to write terrible things about me, and I can’t do anything about it.” But Russia is a country without those traditions, and with no memory of them, and many in Russia believed that the U.S. government did control our press. In fact, following a summit meeting, one of the first questions George got from a Russian newsman essentially was, How can you complain to President Putin about the Russian press when you fired Dan Rather?

About sexuality of English mice. A warm perfume is growing little by little in the room. An orchard scent, a caramelized sugar scent. Mrs. MOUSE roasts apples in the chimney. The apple fruits smell grass of England and the pastry oven. On a thread drawn in the flames, the apples, from the buried autumn, turn a golden color and grind in tempting bubbles. But I have the feeling that you already worry. Mrs. MOUSE in a Laura Ashley apron, pink and white stripes, with a big purple satin bow on her belt, Mrs. MOUSE is certainly not a free mouse? Certainly she cooks all day long lemon meringue tarts, puddings and cheese pies, in the kitchen of the burrow. She suffocates a bit in the sweet steams, looks with a sigh the patched socks trickling, hanging from the ceiling, between mint leaves and pomegranates. Surely Mrs. MOUSE just knows the inside, and all the evening flavours are just good for Mrs. MOUSE flabbiness. You are totally wrong - we can forgive you – we don’t know enough that the life in the burrow is totally communal. To pick the blackberries, the purplish red elderberries, the beechnuts and the sloes Mr. and Mrs. MOUSE escape in turn, and glean in the bushes the winter gatherings. After, with frozen paws, intoxicated with cold wind, they come back in the burrow, and it’s a good time when the little door, rond little oak wood door brings a yellow ray in the blue of the evening. Mr. and Mrs. MOUSE are from outside and from inside, in the most complete commonality of wealth and climate. While Mrs. MOUSE prepares the hot wine, Mr. MOUSE takes care of the children. On the top of the bunk bed Thimoty is reading a cartoon, Mr. MOUSE helps Benjamin to put a fleece-lined pyjama, one in a very sweet milky blue for snow dreams. That’s it … children are in bed …. Mrs. MOUSE blazes the hot wine near the chimney, it smells lemon, cinnamon, big dry flames, a blue tempest. Mr. and Mrs. MOUSE can wait and watch. They drink slowly, and then .... they will make love ….You didn’t know? It’s true, we need to guess it. Don’t expect me to tell you in details the mice love in patchwork duvets, the deep cherry wood bed. It’s just good enough not to speak about it. Because, to be able to speak about it, it would need all the perfumes, all the silent, all the talent and all the colors of the day. We already make love preparing the blackberries wine, the lemon meringue pie, we already make love going outside in the coldness to earn the wish of warmness and come back. We make love downstream of the day, as we take care of our patiences. It’s a love very warm, very present and yet invisible, mice’s love in the duvets. Imagine, dream a bit ….. Don’t speak too badly about English mice’s sexuality …..

My husband, Eric, has a joke he likes to say: “Ask Jessica to sing about Jesus or America, and she’ll be there. Super Bowl, backyard cookout, whatever you got, she’s coming to sing ‘God Bless America.’ ” And he’s right. Growing up in Texas, I sang that song over and over. From Memorial Day parades to Veteran’s Day pancake breakfasts—I was your girl. When I sang it at the East Room of the White House, I finally found out I had been flubbing the lyrics all those years. I was there to kick off the USO holiday tour for troops fighting in Afghanistan. It was the first time they let celebrities in after 9/11, because, well, they were busy. It was surreal to hear President Bush speak, thanking the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for his service, the transportation secretary for keeping the airlines safe. And then he added, “I want to thank Rob Schneider and Jessica Simpson as well.” They asked me to sing “God Bless America,” and I gave it my all. President Bush was in the front row, right next to Laura, and I watched him quietly sing along, his mouth moving along with mine. Something went wrong after we got to the mountains, though. I said, “to the rivers,” just like I always did, and, well, he knew it was “the prairies.” I was so embarrassed that I apologized to him and Mrs. Bush after. “I swear all this time I thought it was rivers!” I said. “That’s okay, Jessica,” he said. “God blessed the rivers, too.

Twin Peaks aired in Russia and Mikhail Gorbachev was a big fan of the show. . .One day Aaron [Spelling] gets a call from Carl Lindner who wants to know who killed Laura Palmer. Aaron was not that involved with the show on a day-to-day basis, so he calls me up and he said, “Who killed Laura Palmer?” I said, “No clue.” He said, “It’s really important.” I called David [Lynch] and he says, “I can’t tell you.” I don’t want to press David, so I call Aaron back to say, “David won’t tell me, who wants to know?” and he says “President Bush.” What happened was Gorbachev called Bush, who called Carl, who called Aaron, who called me. So I called David back and I said, “This isn’t going to go anywhere, it’ll be a secret. You have to tell me who Laura’s killer is.” That’s when I realized David had no idea who killed Laura Palmer.

Over To Candleford Chapter XXVIII: Growing Pains "This accumulated depression of months slid from her at last in a moment. She had run out into the fields one day in a pet and was standing on a small stone bridge looking down on brown running water flecked with cream-coloured foam. It was a dull November day with grey sky and mist. The little brook was scarcely more than a trench to drain the fields; but overhanging it were thorn bushes with a lacework of leafless twigs; ivy had sent trails down the steep banks to dip in the stream, and from every thorn on the leafless twigs and from every point of the ivy leaves water hung in bright drops, like beads. A flock of starlings had whirred up from the bushes at her approach and the clip, clop of a cart-horse's hoofs could be heard on the nearest road, but these were the only sounds. Of the hamlet, only a few hundred yards away, she could hear no sound, or see as much as a chimney-pot, walled in as she was by the mist. Laura looked and looked again. The small scene, so commonplace and yet so lovely, delighted her." It was so near the homes men and yet so far removed from their thoughts. The fresh green moss, the glistening ivy, and the reddish twigs with their sparkling drops seemed to have been made for her alone and the hurrying, foam-flecked water seemed to have some message for her. She felt suddenly uplifted. The things which had troubled her troubled her no more. She did not reason. She had already done plenty of reasoning. Too much, perhaps. She simply stood there and let it all sink in until she felt that her own small affairs did not matter. Whatever happened to her, this, and thousands of other such small, lovely sights would remain and people would come suddenly upon them and look and be glad. A wave of pure happiness pervaded her being, and, although it soon receded, it carried away with it her burden of care. Her first reaction was to laugh aloud at herself. What a fool she had been to make so much of so little.

Yet in 2012, he returned. Plenty of the speechwriters were livid. The club was the embodiment of everything we had promised to change. Was it really necessary to flatter these people, just because they were powerful and rich? In a word, yes. In fact, thanks to the Supreme Court, the rich were more powerful than ever. In 2010, the court’s five conservative justices gutted America’s campaign finance laws in the decision known as Citizens United. With no more limits to the number of attack ads they could purchase, campaigns had become another hobby for the ultrawealthy. Tired of breeding racehorses or bidding on rare wines at auction? Buy a candidate instead! I should make it clear that no one explicitly laid out a strategy regarding the dinner. I never asked point-blank if we hoped to charm billionaires into spending their billions on something other than Mitt Romney’s campaign. That said, I knew it couldn’t hurt. Hoping to mollify the one-percenters in the audience, I kept the script embarrassingly tame. I’ve got about forty-five more minutes on the State of the Union that I’d like to deliver tonight. I am eager to work with members of Congress to be entertaining tonight. But if Congress is unwilling to cooperate, I will be funny without them. Even for a politician, this was weak. But it apparently struck the right tone. POTUS barely edited the speech. A few days later, as a reward for a job well done, Favs invited me to tag along to a speechwriting-team meeting with the president. I had not set foot in the Oval Office since my performance of the Golden Girls theme song. On that occasion, President Obama remained behind his desk. For larger gatherings like this one, however, he crossed the room to a brown leather armchair, and the rest of us filled the two beige sofas on either side. Between the sofas was a coffee table. On the coffee table sat a bowl, which under George W. Bush had contained candy but under Obama was full of apples instead. Hence the ultimate Oval Office power move: grab an apple at the end of a meeting, polish it on your suit, and take a casual chomp on your way out the door. I would have sooner stuck my finger in an electrical socket. Desperate not to call attention to myself, I took the seat farthest away and kept my eyes glued to my laptop. I allowed myself just one indulgence: a quick peek at the Emancipation Proclamation. That’s right, buddy. Look who’s still here. It was only at the very end of the meeting, as we rose from the surprisingly comfy couches, that Favs brought up the Alfalfa dinner. The right-wing radio host Laura Ingraham had been in the audience, and she was struck by the president’s poise. “She was talking about it this morning,” Favs told POTUS. “She said, ‘I don’t know if Mitt Romney can beat him.

While some people professed approval for our wide travel, flexible work schedules, and unencumbered living, it always came with a wink and a nod. 'Yes,' they said to us, 'have your adventures while you can' - meaning, of course, that they would have to end. Whenever I mentioned getting rid of furniture or appliances, people would say, 'You'll want those things later.' This 'later' loomed. Sometime in the near future, circumstances or perhaps people would conspire to trap us. I imagined this threat to my freedom as a large wolf lurking in the bushes waiting to pounce, and felt that if I let my guard down for a moment I would wake up in a house I didn't want, in a neighborhood I didn't want to live in, doing things I didn't want to do. I would sit in my car in traffic and then stare at computers all day in fluorescently lit rooms where the only sounds were the tapping of keyboards and the occasional polite cough. At night I would fold laundry, organize drawers and closets, and pause to wonder when this had become my life.

Laura's mind was already racing with the creative possibilities presented to her. She whipped out her sketchbook and started to work away with a stump of charcoal, trying to capture the sweep of the hills and the patterns made by the blocks of light and dark. She half closed her eyes, the better to appreciate the variations in tone and depth. She was astonished to find just how brash and vivid and wonderfully discordant colors in nature could be. At this time of year there was no sense that things were attempting to blend or mingle or go unseen. Every tree, bush, and flower seemed to be shouting out its presence, each one louder than the next. On the lower slopes the leaves of the aged oak trees sang out, gleaming in the heat. On every hill bracken screamed in solid swathes of viridian. At Laura's feet the plum purple and dark green leaves of the whinberry bushes competed for attention with their own indigo berries. The kitsch mauve of the heather laughed at all notions of subtlety. She turned to a fresh page and began to make quick notes, ideas for a future palette and thoughts about compositions. She jotted down plans for color mixes and drew the voluptuous curve of the hills and the soft shape of the whinberry leaves.

Pero en efecto recuerdo que donó su salario para una fundación. TP: El problema es que nadie le dijo que no podía tener legalmente dos salarios y mucho menos que podía donar parte de su salario porque tenía dos familias, dos casas que mantener con cuatro hijos. A partir de allí ya supe que nunca irían a restituir la transparencia perdida en los gobiernos de Leoni y Caldera I. Todos dan por asumido que la Casa de Gobierno debe pagarle todo a los presidentes cuando no es cierto, el presidente es un funcionario público que debe pagar por el mantenimiento de su familia y sus gastos como jefe de hogar y la Primera Dama debe trabajar para costearse sus gastos o ayudar a los gastos de la familia. CE: Eso es muy difícil de entender en Latinoamérica. Pocos saben que el presidente Obama tenía que pagarse las comidas, el jabón y la pasta de dientes como cualquier trabajador estadounidense. Por supuesto que no va al auto mercado a comprarlo, pero eso se le deduce del salario. TP: Y también la primera dama. Para actos oficiales por ejemplo Michelle Obama podía aceptar ropa de diseñadores que les interesaba proyectarse y eran aceptados como donaciones en nombre del gobierno, es decir no se los podía quedar después, tenían que ir al Archivo Nacional. CE: Laura Bush en su biografía explicaba que le impresionó lo meticulosa que era la factura mensual de la Casa Blanca por sus gastos de peluquería y cuanto tenía que pagar de su bolsillo por el servicio de limpieza y camareros en sus reuniones particulares. TP: A Nancy Reagan le criticaron mucho que usaba vestidos que tenían diez años y luego que pidiera prestados vestidos y así se queja en su biografía, mientras que Hillary Clinton causó problemas por haberle pedido a un empresario chino que ayudara a cancelar sus deudas por haber gastado ochenta mil dólares en fiestas de navidad[1] y ese dinero se lo debía a la Casa Blanca, de hecho, Bill Clinton salió endeudado de su presidencia. CE: Eso es lo que había en los primeros tres gobiernos de la era democrática que después se distorsionó, recuerdo que hicimos una entrevista a la familia de Leoni, que no pudo hacerle una fiesta de quince años a su hija como ellos querían porque no le alcanzaba su sueldo, pues su sueldo de presidente tenía que vivir. TP: Lógicamente la ropa del presidente, sus gastos de representación y las comidas para actos públicos, salen del bolsillo de los contribuyentes como ocurre en muchos lugares incluso de Latinoamérica, y se puede discutir mucho sobre los límites y alcances, pero Chávez llegó a donar un salario que no podía donar legalmente, cuando tenía dos familias que mantener.

She had a very childlike face, and in our pedophiliac culture, looking like a child is every woman’s beauty goal. But she grew up in a tough environment, so to offset her cherubic face, she intentionally deepened her voice and cursed more than any adult I knew. She looked like an American Girl doll and talked like a crusty old war veteran who had seen too much. She had the worldly confidence of a much older girl and she got even more confident when her full pubic bush grew in.

Midway through my treatments, I was at the White House to do an interview with President Bush’s press secretary, Tony Snow. He had recently revealed he was facing cancer for a second time. While there I was told that the First Lady, Laura Bush, wanted to see me in the private residence for tea. Mrs. Bush has a family history of breast cancer. She personally invited me to accompany her on a portion of an international breast cancer initiative with the Susan G. Komen Foundation, and I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My doctors cleared me to travel—although getting my mom’s blessing was far more difficult. Remember, I was in the middle of chemo treatments. I spent time with Mrs. Bush in Abu Dhabi and Dubai, in the UAE and in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I met some incredible women on the trip.

I have found the most valuable thing in my wallet is my library card.

My leg hair reminds me of wildflower meadows. My head hair is long pond grass. My armpit hair is a hawthorn bush. My pubic hair is wet moss and lichen on a rock.

Laura also tried to comfort her staff (after 9/11), but Kathi Card never saw fear in her. "Someone with a strong faith is not a fearful person." Card said.

No one can imagine the kind of pressure being president of the U.S. imposes on an individual and how easily a president can be corrupted by power. To be in command of the most powerful country on earth, to be able to fly anywhere at a moment's notice, to be able to grant almost any wish, to take action that affects the lives of millions, is such a heady, intoxicating experience that only people with the most stable personalities and well-developed value systems can handle it.

He always approached things with big ideas and objectives," Dan Evans said, "Find the best people you can to pursue those goals. Lead them in that direction. Give them leadership through your trust in them, your determination, your courage. You commit yourself to it a hundred percent. And when it's over, it's over, and you move on...

...she quoted (E.B.) White as saying "I love the world." Laura said, "I think all writers and artists love the world, and that's why they're so curious.

Natuurlijk begreep Laura Bush niet dat de situatie in Afghanistan in feite erger was dan in de tijd waarin de taliban die standbeelden opbliezen - en dat de speciale 'steun' van de Verenigde Staten een van de belangrijkste oorzaken van onze ellende was. Net als zo veel andere hoogwaardigheidsbeklede begreep de toenmalige first lady niet dat de verwoesting van ons land niet door de taliban alleen is veroorzaakt, maar ook door jarenlange buitenlandse inmenging. De taliban zijn niet het probleem, ze zijn een symptoom van de ziekten die corruptie, geweld en feodalisme heten en die mijn land hebben geteisterd sinds de Verenigde Staten, Pakistan en Iran grote hoeveelheden geld en wapens begonnen te leveren aan fundamentalistische, terroristische groepen en krijgsheren. Karzai heeft deze misdadigers verwelkomd terwijl hij Afghanistan van hen had moeten verlossen.

Actually, the very oddness of living in a rectangular shelf of space rather than in a house set to the earth among bushes and trees had so far stimulated rather than dampened his spirits. He had sought basic change in the patterns of his life. This apartment was physical proof that he had found it, or, at any rate, one facet of

The argument that they repeat over and over again is that a woman has the right to do whatever she wants with her own body. This mantra is repeated ad nauseam, and the left and liberal pundits, including former First Lady Laura Bush, claim that somehow it’s okay.[85] Our President Obama has made it clear that

Westerners may wonder, “Who are these gods?” If we were to adapt this to our cultural context, the verse might be, “Homage to you adored by Jesus, Mary, Moses, Abraham, Mohammed, Zeus, Socrates, Plato, Rambo, Madonna, Freud, Dr. Laura, Clinton, Bush, and everyone in Star Wars.

burning bushes Watch: it always comes Right when you expect it least. The light slants, enchants; Your spirit, wakening, hums And rouses the sleeping beast.

President Bush, whose early affirmation of the need for the [Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture] to have a home on the National Mall was significant, and the first lady were genuinely interested and soon became invested in the success of the museum. President Bush had placed African Americans like Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice in sensitive senior positions that had been unobtainable in earlier administrations. And he genuinely hoped that his actions might address the problem of the lack of diversity within the Republican Party. I also believe, whether directly or indirectly, that the destruction that accompanied Hurricane Katrina, the high percentage of African Americans who perished as a result of the storm and the inadequate response by his administration, informed his attitudes towards the museum.