Bienenstock Court Quotes

#1. That's what I'd call him if he was my dog. Jacket-humper. Kinda had a ring to it. Although it seemed a little long for vet visits and intros to lady dogs.

Jennifer Rardin

#2. Nobody's going to sell 10 million records by not working hard.

Daryl Hall

#3. Do we have to have one of those woman conversations about it?" She felt her brows go up. "I'm sorry, what's that supposed to mean?" "Oh shit. We do." "Michael.

Lauren Gilley

#4. Sydney's arms were beginning to ache from lifting the shovel, but for the first time in a year, she wasn't cold. Her cheeks burned, and she was sweating through her coat, and she felt alive.
As far as she was concerned, that was the only good thing about digging up a corpse.

Victoria Schwab

#5. Sometimes you do a sound installation, and the first day or two it is very exciting. Then you are hearing this every day for a month, and it becomes like a torture.

Jeffrey Deitch

#6. Philadelphia, wonderful town, spent a week there one night

W.C. Fields

#7. I didn't say you weren't, but moving on the hope that some man will hire you seems a bit risky.'
'No more so than diggin' in the dirt for your dreams - only to find it's your grave you've been diggin'.

Judith Pella

#8. I'd die for him! And he would. Say the word, there's Tate Walker, lying down in traffic and throwing his worthless life away so someone as good as Brian could cross the street.

Amy Lane

#9. Of all recent presidents, Clinton was expected to behave the most sensibly in economic matters. He understood how the economy works. But because he had used various dodges to stay out of the Vietnam War, he came to office ill at ease with the military.

Gore Vidal

#10. Is the price of sin something that can be paid off like a debt?

Jo Min-Hyuk

#11. The gothic reminds us that we are mainly driven by our passions; the Gothic deals in illicit desires, in what is prohibited by society.

David Punter

#12. Lovers don't leave if there's any hope at all.

Andrew Sean Greer

#13. Talk uses up ideas. Once I have spoken them aloud, they are lost to me, dissipated into the noisy air like smoke. Only if I bury them, like bulbs, in the rich soil of silence do they grow.

Doris Grumbach