Top 25 Green Lake Quotes
#2. The reader is probably asking: Why would anyone go to Camp Green Lake? Most campers weren't given a choice. Camp Green Lake is a camp for bad boys. If you
Louis Sachar
#3. There is no lake at Camp Green Lake. (p. 3)
It immediately sets a mood of hardship and confusion and starts right in with the irony that permeates the novel.
Louis Sachar
#4. You'd have to trust in Hope," said Fern. "Is that it?"
No," Ragginbone replied shortly. "Hope needs something tangible to sustain it. You would have to rely on Faith. Only Faith can endure in the teeth of the evidence.
Jan Siegel
#5. One cannot even light a casual cigarette unless the artistic permission of the universe is freely given!
J.D. Salinger
#6. You can't make a frog richer who already have a great sun and have a pretty lake with green leaves, insects and flowers! He is already the richest of the richest!
Mehmet Murat Ildan
#7. I am remarkably pleased with Obama. I had grave misgivings about him.
Pat Robertson
#8. I can kill a bad guy, but I can't save anyone. I'm not a hero. All I am is a killer. A dead killer who shit his pants.
Samuel Engelen
#9. When the going is good and the putts are dropping, you love your putter. When it's going bad, it's like it has betrayed you and you want to throw the sucker in a lake.
Ken Green
#10. The town of Niagara-on-the-Lake was like something out of a Christmas movie. The trees were bare except for the occasional pine tree that stood out dark green against the white snow.
Nicki Edwards
#11. The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.
J.K. Rowling
#12. All the light of the day, fleeing the earth, seemed for one brief moment to take refuge in the sky; pink clouds spiralled round the full moon that was as green as pistachio sorbet and as clear as glass; it was reflected in the lake.
Irene Nemirovsky
#14. HAPPINESS comes first by what comes into your head a long time before material BLESSINGS come into your hand.
Jeffrey R. Holland
#15. Long drawn, the cool, green shadows
Steal o'er the lake's warm breast,
And the ancient silence follows
The burning sun to rest. The calm of a thousand summers,
And dreams of countless Junes,
Return when the lake-wind murmurs
Through golden August noons.
William Braithwaite
#16. Principled hate is a hell of a lot stronger than "Boy, I wish you hadn't mummified me and thrown me into the lake" hate.
John Green
#17. I began to swim, an armless silver mermaid, using only my hips to generate motion, until finally my ass scraped against the lake's mucky bottom. I turned then and used my hips and waist to roll three times, until I came ashore near a ratty green towel. They'd left me a towel. How thoughtful.
John Green
#18. Part of her soul ... gloried in the sheer bodacious unnaturalness of it. Putting a great blue-green water park smack down in the red desert complete with cactus, trading posts, genuine Navajo Indians, and five kinds of rattlesnakes was theater of the absurd at its most outrageous.
Nevada Barr
#19. What use is status if you have no one to share it with, Dad?
Renita D'Silva
#20. If I can make it out, anyone can make it out!
Ronnie Radke
#21. All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings. Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it ... bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.
Laura Ingalls Wilder
#22. There was no honor in war, less in killing, and none in dying. But there was true dignity in how men comported themselves in battle. And there was always honor to be found in standing for a just cause and defending the defenseless.
Michael Scott
#23. If that's true why did it jump into the swamp?" Alex asks. "No normal horse would do that. Jump into a lake for a swim maybe, but not a swamp, unless it was a suicidal horse.
L. H. Cosway
#24. We drove ten miles in silence, the country road canopied in electric green. I pressed my head against the glass to watch the new maple leaves curling in the breeze. Every few turns offered a tempting glimpse of Lake Champlain's choppy waters.
Miranda Beverly-Whittemore
#25. The only thing you have then to believe in is your craft.
Frank Langella
