Pratt Quotes

Friends will keep you sane, Love could fill your heart, A lover can warm your bed, But lonely is the soul without a mate.

Jack lifts his mug. Me an Ike do the same. To Molly Pratt, says Jack. Ike scowls at him. Watch yer mouth, he says. Jeez, Ike, says Jack. All I’m sayin is … to Molly Pratt. Ike looks sly. Leans in an waggles his eyebrows. To Molly Pratt, he says, an her frilly red bloomers. One helluva woman, says Jack. One helluva pair of undies, says Ike. Then they throw their drinks down their necks.

The gift of the Holy Ghost...quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands, and purifies all the natural passions and affections, and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. It inspires, develops, cultivates, and matures all the fine-toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings, and affections of our nature. It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness, and charity. It develops beauty of person, form, and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation, and social feeling. It invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being.

Robert said, "This is great, huh? Sorry to butt in and everything, but I really need the extra points. For my grade." Ben nodded and tried to smile. Right, for his grade. He probably wanted to get an A++ in social studies instead of just an A+

I have learned one lesson in all this and I will share it knowing it will do no one any good. The lesson is this: "There are none more complicit in one's undoing than one's own heart".

But you know me-I'm an information magpie, always interested in shiny bits of intel. I've never gotten in trouble because of knowing too much.

It's too much to be forgiven when all you want is to be blamed.

The point is to be in the moment, not miss the moment while trying to capture it.

Fact and fiction are different truths.

The best-remembered teachers are the tough ones, who discipline our intellects for the longest journeys.

My head is a prison I’ve been locked in from the start, So if I'm treated like a criminal I might as well play the part. (attrib: E. Tancarville)

He spotted Jill sitting about thirty feet away, face tipped toward the sun, her straight brown hair tucked behind one ear and slanted across her neck. And Ben decided that when her mouth wasn't full of tuna salad, she was sort of pretty.

The clash of ideas is not weakness.Truth reaches its place when tussling with error.

If a string is in a knot, Patience will untie it. Patience can do many things— Did you ever try it? If it was sold at any shop I should like to buy it. But you and I must find our own— No other can supply it.

You can't lose someone who was never there in the first place.

And until you're sure there's a cage around a tiger, it's pretty dumb to dangle meat in front of it. Right?

Travelling men make wide detours just to be in the same room as her. That's the most that even the best of of them can hope for. Molly Pratt, he says. Remind me, what's a heavenly creature like you doin in a dump like this? Servin rotgut to scoundrels like you, she says. An if you call my place a dump again, I'll bar you.

After the war, and after he had been thanked by Congress and President George Washington himself, Captain Oakes got the idea of turning his huge warehouse into a school, a permanent contribution to the life of the town and the nation.

Children...need most of the same things adults need--consideration, respect for their work, the knowledge that they and the things they do are taken seriously.

When we do not succeed to be ourselves, we finally realize that is was completely useless to exist...

B looked down the shaft, at a metal ladder and darkness beyond. "Me first?" Of course. You're the apprentice, so you always go first into the unknown. If anyone's going to be eaten by a grue, it should be you." Tough job. But at least the hours are terrible.

So it is with life. Those thorns, the prickly problems of life, cause us to strive to rise above them and then, as we do, we learn. We learn to exercise true compassion, true kindness - or the thorns, if we let them, cause us to brood, to mourn over our trials. Then we plant the seeds of bitterness, hate, and ruin - weeds. We may reach up for the rose or down to the weeds...the weeds in life that tangle us, strangle us, and cause us to lose hope.

... women would be wonderful if we could fall into their arms instead of their hands.

But all he could really do was his best, each moment. That was what mattered most—even more than the final outcome. Because the final outcome wasn't up to him alone.

Proprio perché non assomigli a nessuna avrei voluto incontrarti sempre... In qualsiasi posto...

The senseless destruction that war brings,” he explains. “The ones who always pay the price of another’s greed is the simple man who just wants to go about his life, take joy in his family, and find peace at the end. They didn’t ask for it, don’t understand why it’s happening, but theirs are the lives ruined, turned upside down, families destroyed.

Love is found when you don't have to give it. It is the emotion of generosity and kindness that is compelled by no one. It is performed on the battlefield, in our daily tasks, in the marketplace, the factories, at school, in the offices, and in the halls and corridors of government.... But only when one truly gives of himself and without compulsion.

True love is like a metal tested in a fire. Fires of adversity surround us daily. Are we to love only when it is merely convenient? Like gold or silver, which very hot fire must heat to purge them of impurities, love must be thrust into the fire from time to time to make it purer, stronger and more resilient. And in the same way, live shines its brightest right out of the flames.

This life is a shadowy thing, lad. We live in a crowded space of lights and shadows, and when left to ourselves, we all too often fail to see the brightest light of all.

The code of the con is to know just enough about everything so you can lie about anything. (attrib: E. Tancarville)

The more people that meet each other, the better it is for all of them. ("The Gift Of God").

Tis the opinion of myself, Sanderson Pratt, who sets this down, that the educational system of the United States should be in the hands of the weather bureau. I can give you good reasons for it; and you can’t tell me why our college professors shouldn’t be transferred to the meteorological department.

But the central branch of the Enoch Pratt Free Library was still a place of wonders to Tess, even if the book budget had been slashed and the hours cut. Her parents had made a lot of mistakes, a fact Tess compulsively shared on first dates, but she gave them credit for doing one thing right: Starting when she was eight, they gave her a library card and dropped her off at the downtown Pratt every Saturday while they shopped. Twenty-one years later, Tess still entered through the children's entrance on the side, pausing to toss a penny in the algae-coated fish pond, then climbing the stairs to the main hall. If she could be married here, she would.

All that time I'd spent worrying about why I'm here and how I'm supposed to live had kept me from remembering that Jeremy Pratt will never be back. His people will never have him again. He is Jeremy Pratt who died and stayed dead and will never get a second chance. And even though that hand that spent the last five years holding hers was somehow doing it again, it wasn't Jeremy Pratt's anyone

Of the seminal moments in my life, Careers Day in the autumn of Year 5 is my favorite. Everyone had to dress as whatever they wanted to be once they grew up. I had gone in a tweed jacket and a bow tie, and when Miss Weston asked me what I wanted to be, I told her that I wanted to be the Doctor. 'Shouldn't you be wearing a lab coat and stethoscope like Paul?' She pointed to Paul Black, who was trying to strangle everyone with the stethoscope in question. Before I could answer, a boy I didn't know from the other class spoke up. 'Paul's *a* doctor,' he explained, giving me a look of approval. 'He wants to be *the* Doctor.' 'Who?' 'Exactly,' we said at the same time, relieved that she understood. She didn't. We were sent to the quiet table to reflect on why cheeking teachers was wrong.

Once in a while, our thoughts drift and fade, back into the recessed hiding places where our memories are stored. At times we recall them- the memories of our loves, our youths, our life experiences. These dreams appear to us, and for seconds, minutes, or hours we are there once again.

Excellence is never an accident; it's the result of intention, effort, intelligence, execution & seeing obstacles as opportunities

Kimbilir, belki kahramanlığa, cömertliğe inanan, soyu tükenmek üzere olan bir hanedanın son temsilcisi, yani, belki de salakların şahıyımdır !

All water has been everywhere, Bekah. What flows from your faucet was once frozen inside a glacier, and squeezed by unimaginable pressures at the bottom of the deepest sea, and rippling in a lightless lake in a cavern no living thing has ever touched. Also, it has almost certainly been inside a dinosaur. All water is one water, and all water remembers the past.

The mission of the Holy Ghost is to partake of the things of the Father and the Son and teach them unto those who have received the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. He guides the true disciples in all truth, shows them things to come, reveals the past and makes known the hidden treasures of the kingdom of God.

I have seen ministers of justice, clothed in magisterial robes and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath in the courts of England; I have witnessed a congress in solemn session to give laws to nations;...but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains at midnight, in a dungeon, in an obscure village of Missouri.

A body is a body." Viscarro shrugged his bony shoulders. "Dead, alive, alive, dead. I fail to see the importance of the distinction." Yeah? So you'd just as soon fuck a living person as a dead one? What's the point of the distinction? Oh, right-one's normal, and one's called necrophilia." Viscarro sighed. "Touche, I suppose.

We have a light upon our house, and it gives hope to all who sail upon the stormy seas. Do ya know what it means to have a light burning atop your home? It is safety, a place of refuge, seen by all that as a signal that ye stand for something greater than this world, greater than us all.

Corto à lui même: Ce serait bon de vivre dans une fable. Bouche Dorée à Corto: Oh oui!… Mais toi tu vis continuellement une fable et tu ne t'en aperçois plus. Lorsqu'un adulte entre dans le monde des fables, il ne peut plus en sortir. Le savais-tu?

The child, unhampered, does not waste time.

The most important phase of a child’s life was the beginning of it. He must be started right.

forgiveness is an act of self-love. Holding on to a traumatic past does nothing but consume your present emotional space.

Education [is] not an end in itself but [is] the first step in a progress which should continue during a lifetime.

The prisoner of doubt ends his stint [through suicide], released to the custody of that final question mark which punctuates every life sentence.

There's something very peaceful about being in love. It can make you light as a feather; so blissfully unaware of anything else of importance. It can make you feel anger, rage, jealousy and lust all in one sentence. But the most important thing that love can give a person is certainty. Certainty that love, real love, will always pull you through your darkest days.

We talked on the phone for a long time yesterday,” she said. “He’s sorry, Joe. He’s really sorry. He broke down and cried like a baby.” “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Why don’t you at least

All I know is, unselfishness is the only moral principle," said Jessica Pratt, "the noblest principle and a sacred duty and much more important than freedom. Unselfishness is the only way to happiness. I would have everybody who refused to be unselfish shot. To put them out of their misery. They can't be happy anyway.

There’s a bit in “Echoes” we call “the wind section” where it all falls apart, and then comes back in,’ explains Guy Pratt. ‘Some of the younger players, mentioning no names, couldn’t get their heads around it not being a set number of bars. It was like, “You have to feel it and know instinctively when to come back in.” David’s great line about that was, “The trouble with modern musicians is that they don’t know how to disintegrate.

Unlike the victims of the Jewish Holocaust, who were on the whole literate, comparatively wealthy, and positioned to record for history the horror that enveloped them, Cottenham and his peers had virtually no capacity to preserve their memories or document their destruction. The black population of the United States in 1900 was in the main destitute and illiterate. For the vast majority, no recordings, writings, images, or physical descriptions survive. There is no chronicle of girlfriends, hopes, or favorite songs of the dead in a Pratt Mines burial field. The entombed there are utterly mute, the fact of their existence as fragile as a scent in wind.

Il y a, à Venise, trois lieux magiques et secrets : l'un dans la "rue de l'amour des amis", le deuxième près du "pont des merveilles" et le troisième dans le "sentier des marranes", près de San Geremia, dans le vieux ghetto. Quand les Vénitiens - parfois ce sont les Maltais - sont fatigués des autorités, ils vont dans ces lieux secrets et, ouvrant les portes au fond de ces cours, ils s'en vont pour toujours vers des pays merveilleux et vers d'autres histoires...

When I was a boy I noticed I didn't have a fortune line on my palm... so I took my father's razor and... zak... I made myself one, just the way I wanted.

He was shouting now. His face looked like a candy apple with eyes.

If shadows are curtains, mirrors are windows.

Childhood’s work is learning, and it is in his play...that the child works at his job.

Children learn eagerly and well when they have need of the knowledge.

The moon was creeping up behind a hill to the northeast, almost as though it was afraid of what it would see when it cleared the ridge.

We lost Klimmt, Schiele and Moll

ones that keep to themselves, are grist for the rumor mill.

At which Charion Pratt blushed girlishly, to her own furious embarrassment, yet the eye she cast upon the little coxcomb was not unlike that which a certain toad had once cast upon her: for there is never anything but apparent paradox in the choices made by lovers.

As McMasters raised the shotgun, the man removed his glasses. There were fields of stars where his eyes should have been. But they weren’t reflections of the night sky. These stars were a glimpse of a dim and distant future where the very laws of physics had been reduced to relics of a forgotten age. Feeble as dying embers, they were the palsied mourners at time’s wake. McMasters could hear the ultimate silence and feel the biting cold of the one true void. The promise of the eternal nothing beckoned to him. There was a sort of peace in the death it represented, not the death of mind and body but of shape and form. It was the final revelation, the casting off of life’s illusion in favor of the void’s embrace. from "Riders of the Necronomicon

I then heard footsteps heading toward my room and decided I’d better get ready. Since the demise of my engagement to Miss Julia Pratt of Washington some two years earlier, I’d been staying with my grandmother, and during that time the old girl had become steadily more skeptical about the ways in which I spent my off-hours. I had repeatedly explained that, as a police reporter for The New York Times, I was required to visit many of the city’s seamier districts and houses and consort with some less than savory characters; but she remembered my youth too well to accept that admittedly strained story.

Sure, movies can be a way to hide from life, but shit, sometimes you NEED to hide from life, to see a better life on the screen, to know life can be better than it is, or to see a worse life and realize how good you have it. Movies taught me not to settle for less.

Miko: “How far is it?” James: “Possibly another hour by flying door.

What was it with gay men and art photos of nude male torsos?

Fuck you, diet,” said Stuart. “The diet schmeer is the end of civilisation as we know it.

Tears trickle down her cheeks, falling into the bath water as though they are the most inconsequential thing in the world

The dreams of youth. So noble. So good. And heavy dreamsthey were- made frail only by their own weight.

This was not the last time I was to spoil my own fun by asking questions.

A school’s job [is] to begin education.

A lifetime is not too long to spend in learning about the world.

The freest child is the child who is most interested in what he is doing, and at whose hand are the materials for his work or play.

It is only in retrospect that the high points of our lives rise up, flaunting banners.

You find yourself through adversity.... The things that hurt us most today make us stronger tomorrow.

Be still and silent. Listen. The answers are inside.

It seems I've dared to cross a line in a world where people accept violence over passion.

So it is that, just as nature abhors a vacuum, philosophy abhors an answer, for once the truth is truly attained, the game is truly up.

Lorsqu’un adulte entre dans le monde des fables il ne peut plus en sortir

I am not Perfect, but I am a Limited Edition

I know why we all fell apart, that's just what happens. But things that fall apart can be put back together, right? Even if there's a piece missing.

The more closely he has observed the tugboat, the more deeply he has been stirred by it, and the more eagerly and vividly he will strive to recreate it, in building, in drawing, in words.

Fiction in general holds little interest for me. Novels, in particular, arouse more suspicion than intrigue. It truly baffles me that any practitioner of make-believe should (especially in this day and age) feel the need to produce anything so gratuitous. The fact that certain examples of this fare can approach the length of your average dictionary seems inherently absurd.

Anything you want to do is possible. Believe in yourself, see yourself doing it, walk like your going to do it, talk like your going to do it, and dream the dream of doing it, and it will be so....... Everything starts with a dream and believing in your own abilities. What everyone else says about your dreams is none of your business. Believe in yourself and big things will happen!

And that being made to take a name like they’d wanted, being made to become the kind of person that they wanted us to be, it was just like that woman’s monster, was just like what she had Dr. Victor Frankenstein make in the book, that was why he chose the name Victor, he was the man making the monster by agreeing to take their kind of name and living life the way white men like Pratt demanded.

those side-by-side shots of the Indians, the before and after. There with their blankets and long hair on the left, and then again on the right with short hair and in uniform. Before and aftermath more like it. There was something so horrible and true about those photographs, true about what Pratt had done to the Indians, and true about how he’d done it exactly the same way Roosevelt had. For the show.

(B)ut really, it doesn't matter how big the army is—we just have to deal with the enemies at the very front...We don't have to defeat a whole army all at once. If we fight smart and we don't panic, we'll be good.

One of the things that helps use cope with loss is the fact that while memories may remian, the emotions associated with them will fade like old photographs. At the same time, there is a masochistic desire to retain those feelings spurred on by the dread of losing the power they hold. Sometimes I can't think of anything more awful than simply being human.

Change couldn't be stopped...but people always had choices, didn't they? Even if change was being forced on you...you still had a choice: You could either give up and accept someone else's ideas about change, or you could fight for the kind of changes you believed in.

.......if you EVER touch her again, you’re a dead man! You got that? There’ll be no lawsuit filed against you man, I’ll just settle this old school. I don’t know how you feel about having your fingers ripped off and shoved up your own arse, but let me tell you, I won’t be gentle.

The spirit world is moved, the silence broken, The ancient Seers from out the ground have spoken. The appointed years on time's fleet wings have fled. And voices whisper from the ancient dead. Volumes of truth the sacred archives yield. The past, the glorious future, stand revealed.

I like to think of myself as a fairly rational person. I believe in cause and effect and that's about it. But sometimes I have to wonder about all the various, seemingly unrelated things that conspire to form an improbable chain of events culminating in some awful, heart-wrenching conclusion. If someone is in control and there really is such a thing as fate or destiny or some divine plan, I can't help but think whoever or whatever is behind it just doesn't seem very nice. I don't relish the concept of non-existence, but I do find that a more comforting prospect than spending eternity in the presence of the thing behind the curtain.

You ask for happiness, Ms. Stuart. Certainly, that’s what everyone wants–Aristotle said happiness is the ultimate goal of all people, and that the desire for wealth and fame and power are all just paths to happiness. And yet…happiness…it’s a bit abstract, isn’t it? As the front door says, I deal in antiquities and tangibles. Which is not to say I can’t cope with more aspirational requests–if you asked for the aforementioned wealth or power, or for youth, or beauty, or inspiration, I have items that can grant all those wishes. But happiness… Can you be a bit more specific? Can you tell me what would make you happy?

After several stops, and a dark journey through the tunnel under the bay, B stood up and said, “This is it.” They stepped off the train and took an escalator up a level, into a domed area, and then exited the train station. As always when Marla emerged from an underground space into the light, she felt a sense of new possibilities, as if she’d returned from the underworld and brought back secrets. There was power even in symbolic journeys.

There were so many more books and so many more kinds of books and writers of books than the Bible, and luckily, Pratt’s wife, Anna Laura, encouraged us to read other books to expand our understanding of the English language. She gave us books like Moby-Dick and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, plus the monster book Bear Shield loved, and poetry by a man named Walt Whitman, who believed himself to have written a kind of Bible he called Leaves of Grass, which I did not particularly like, but I always remembered this line, “This is no book, who touches this, touches a man!,” because I’d started to think of books as beings. As things unto themselves, whether they were written by countless people countless years ago, or written just recently by strange old white men, the books themselves felt to me as if they were their own lives, separate from the bodies and minds that created them. I wanted to write one myself. I began to use the ledger paper I’d been drawing on to write down things that seemed like they might be on their way to being in a book one day.

Since my prior requests for office time are routinely ignored, I am now resorting to this: I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need office time everyday! I need office time everyday! I need office time everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need office time everyday! I need office time everyday! I need office time everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! I need officetime everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Not just once a week or some days, everyday! Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaks or transition times between meetings are not office time. Breaksor transition times between meetings are not officetime. If this doesn't change immediately, I will just start unilaterally cancelling things every day. If this doesn't change immediately, I will just start unilaterally cancelling things every day. If this doesn't change immediately, I will just start unilaterally cancelling things every day. If this doesn't change immediately, I will just start unilaterally cancelling things every day. If this doesn't change immediately, I will just start unilaterally cancelling things every day. Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?! Have I made myself clear, finally?!

There is no silence upon the earth or under the earth like the silence under the sea; No cries announcing birth, No sounds declaring death. There is silence when the milt is laid on the spawn in the weeds and fungus of the rock-clefts; And silence in the growth and struggle for life. The bonitoes pounce upon the mackerel, And are themselves caught by the barracudas, The sharks kill the barracudas And the great molluscs rend the sharks, And all noiselessly-- Though swift be the action and final the conflict, The drama is silent. There is no fury upon the earth like the fury under the sea. For growl and cough and snarl are the tokens of spendthrifts who know not the ultimate economy of rage. Moreover, the pace of the blood is too fast. But under the waves the blood is sluggard and has the same temperature as that of the sea. There is something pre-reptilian about a silent kill. Two men may end their hostilities just with their battle-cries, 'The devil take you,' says one. 'I'll see you in hell,' says the other. And these introductory salutes followed by a hail of gutturals and sibilants are often the beginning of friendship, for who would not prefer to be lustily damned than to be half-heartedly blessed? No one need fear oaths that are properly enunciated, for they belong to the inheritance of just men made perfect, and, for all we know, of such may be the Kingdom of Heaven. But let silent hate be put away for it feeds upon the heart of the hater. Today I watched two pairs of eyes. One pair was black and the other grey. And while the owners thereof, for the space of five seconds, walked past each other, the grey snapped at the black and the black riddled the grey. One looked to say--'The cat,' And the other--'The cur.' But no words were spoken; Not so much as a hiss or a murmur came through the perfect enamel of the teeth; not so much as a gesture of enmity. If the right upper lip curled over the canine, it went unnoticed. The lashes veiled the eyes not for an instant in the passing. And as between the two in respect to candour of intention or eternity of wish, there was no choice, for the stare was mutual and absolute. A word would have dulled the exquisite edge of the feeling. An oath would have flawed the crystallization of the hate. For only such culture could grow in a climate of silence-- Away back before emergence of fur or feather, back to the unvocal sea and down deep where the darkness spills its wash on the threshold of light, where the lids never close upon the eyes, where the inhabitants slay in silence and are as silently slain.