Quotes for All
An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians’ stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The 21st of December marks the end of the time and the beginning of no-time Evo Morales
[I]nstead of the usual Why can’t we make movies more like real life? I think a more pertinent question is Why can’t real life be more like the movies? Ernie Pyle
But when I look back I can’t call myself unlucky. My 23rd birthday was December 14. In these years I have had more than most people get in a lifetime. Ernie Davis
But come back in November or December, in February or March, when the fog, la nebbia, settles upon the city like a marvelous monster, and you will have little trouble believing that things can appear and disappear in this labyrinthine city, or that time here could easily slip in its sprockets and take you, willingly … Read more
We shot that in Morocco, and got out of the country at the beginning of July – and two months later came the attack on Twin Towers. The movie was then released in December, so that kind of atmosphere is not something that was unfamiliar to me. Eric Bana
In Memory of BPP Comrades Fred Hampton & Mark Clark, both assassinated by the US Government via the state and local government of Chicago, Illinois, December 4, 1969. Emory Douglas
Christmas seems to start earlier and earlier every year. Like, this time, it’s on December 25th. Emo Philips
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring ,Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath … Read more
One bitter time of mourning, I remember, When day, and night, my sad heart did complain, My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December, And all its pleasures, were but whited pain. Ella Wheeler Wilcox