Long Ago Quotes - Page 8

You can't trust reason. We threw it out of the ad profession long ago and have never missed it.

We have launched an international campaign to legalize coca leaves, and we want the United Nations to remove coca from its list of toxic substances. Scientists proved long ago that coca leaves are not toxic.

It seems as though women keep growing. Eventually they can have little or nothing in common with the men they chose long ago.

If it comes down to you or the program that decision was made long ago.

A minimal level of sportsman ethics afield is mandated by written law. Beyond that, say, when an action is legal but ethically questionable, or when (as Aldo Leopold long ago pointed out) no one is watching, hunter ethics is an individual responsibility. As the existentialists would have it, we determine our own honor minute by minute, action by action, one decision at a time.

Dictators long ago found out it is easier to unite people in common hatred than common love.

You know, it's a funny thing about writers. Most people don't stop to think of books being written by people much like themselves. They think that writers are all dead long ago--they don't expect to meet them in the street or out shopping. They know their stories but not their names, and certainly not their faces. And most writers like it that way.

They established their patriotic credentials long ago, and are either supportive of the Bush agenda or know when to keep their traps shut.

Women carry a beautiful hand with them to the grave, when a beautiful face has long ago vanished.

. . . the newspapers of Utopia, he had long ago decided, would be terribly dull.

I'm naive enough to think that love is always good no matter how long ago, no matter the circumstances.

Funny, I'd forgotten that what comes to you when you take a psychedelic is not always a revelation of something new and startling; you're more liable to find yourself reminded of simple things you know and forgot you knew - seeing them freshly - old, basic truths that long ago became cliches, so you stopped paying attention to them.

Think of me, think of me fondly When we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while Please promise me, you'll try. Recall those days, look back on all those times, Think of those things we'll never do. There will never be a day When I won't think of you. Can it be? Can it be Christine? Long ago, it seems so long ago, How young and innocent we were. She may not remember me But I remember her.

If simple, painless solutions to public problems existed, they would have been found long ago.

We should have understood long ago that there is, in this world, religion without God, religion as a center of all idols that possess fallen man, religion that is the justification for these idols.

Without competition we would be clinging to the clumsy antiquated processes of farming and manufacture and the methods of business of long ago, and the twentieth would be no further advanced than the eighteenth century.

Because of our broken instincts we are in pain. We continue in pain because our instincts have been twisted by reason. So, what are we supposed to do? Should we abandon knowledge? Throw away reason? In any event, that wouldn't be possible. For better or worse, we ate the fruit of knowledge long, long ago.

Sometimes, in a moral struggle, we discover the right thing to do - just as, on some cold day long ago, we discovered mittens pinned to our coat sleeve.

Magic--that's just a label, you know. Completely meaningless. It wasn't so very long ago that people were saying that electricity was magic.

I think Miss Moore was right to cut "The Steeple-Jack" - the poem seems plainer and clearer in its shortened state but she has cut too much... The reader may feel like saying, "Let her do as she pleases with the poem; it's hers, isn't it?" No; it's much too good a poem for that, it long ago became everybody's, and we can protest just as we could if Donatello cut off David's left leg.

They, who passed away long ago, still exist in us, as predisposition, as burden upon our fate, as murmuring blood, and as gesture that rises up from the depths of time.

Any sane person would have left long ago. But I cannot. I have my sons.

We may, perhaps, imagine that the creation was finished long ago. But that would be quite wrong. It continues still more magnificently, and at the highest levels of the world.

Long ago I abandoned my masterpiece a roll of paper thirty yards long which I filled completely with minute handwriting in my dungeon years ago It vanished when the Bastille fell it vanished as everything written everything thought and planned will disappear

I learned long ago that in order to heal my wounds, I must have the courage to face up with them.