Alaish Wren Quotes

Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flow'rs do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole
The ant, the field-mouse and the mole,
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm,
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
Let holy Church receive him duly,
Since he paid the church-tithes truly. ~ John Webster

Do you think I absorbed all the impact? That when Mom left, it hit my side of the car? Fuck that, Wren. She left you, too."

"But it didn't break me. Nothing can break me unless I let it."

"Do you think Dad let it? Do you think he chose to fall apart when she left?"

"Yes!" Wren was shouting now. "And I think he keeps choosing. I think you both do. You'd rather be broken than move on. ~ Rainbow Rowell

The spelling of 'Wrenne' was a very common form of the family name, and it seems very likely that John Wrenne belonged to this family, who were much connected with S. George's, Windsor. OLD FAMILY MOTTO. William Wren was in Henry VIII.'s time the head of the family; ~ Lucy Phillimore

Wisdom! To leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not.
He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All is the fear and nothing is the love,
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason ~ William Shakespeare

Herein is the explanation of the analogies, which exist in all the arts. They are the re-appearance of one mind, working in many materials to many temporary ends. Raphael paints wisdom, Handel sings it, Phidias carves it, Shakspeare writes it, Wren builds it, Columbus sails it, Luther preaches it, Washington arms it, Watt mechanizes it. Painting was called "silent poetry," and poetry "speaking painting." The laws of each art are convertible into the laws of every other. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

There is pleasure in reading a version of myself I know in my heart could never exist, since mine is not an iron mind coldly calculating every possible option and outcome. Instead I am a businessman who loves excitement, loves tension, loves risk and the unexpected, and just happens to possess an extraordinary, on occasion even miraculous, degree of good luck. ~ Jacob Wren

The wren and the nightingale sound nothing alike, but think how dull the world would be without the songs of both birds.-Miss Kanagawa ~ Kirby Larson

But no, I'm sorry. I can't end there. I haven't yet said everything I want to say. A little girl is at school, out in the playground with her friends, and she sees a flower and says to her friends, just thinking out loud, wondering gently to herself: Do you think flowers have feelings? And for the rest of the day her friends tease her relentlessly, with every new opportunity that arises. Do flowers have feelings, that's so stupid. Right, flowers have feelings. All day and for the rest of the week: stupid flowers have stupid feelings and that little girl feels she is never going to say anything like that ever again. She has already learned that when you open your heart or express genuine, innocent curiosity or wonder about the world, your friends will pounce on the opportunity and use it to hurt you as viciously as possible and there is nothing anyone can do to protect her. It's simple stories like that that really break my heart. ~ Jacob Wren

The wren-box problem is becoming more acute each year, for wrens now demand better housing conditions and labor-saving devices. ~ Will Cuppy

Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy," Wren said. "It's the noblest, like, the most courageous thing two people can shoot for. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren ~ Anne Sexton

When the Great Fire of London destroyed most of the medieval city in 1666, Christopher Wren was invited to design a new one. Within days, he had drawn up an elegant grid of broad boulevards leading to majestic squares, but it came to nothing - the existing landowners wanted things as they had been. ~ Norman Foster

When you can do that, little Wren, when you can accept the wearing down and the eroding, then you can do anything. How did I manage to keep going out nights? I just told myself I didn't matter all that much - that those in here mattered more. You know something? It's not so hard really. You just have to get past the fear. ~ Terry Brooks

He raised his gloved hands skyward, still smiling. He was a hard man to insult, because I'd been trying. He had this sort of cheerful goodwill that seemed to deflect everything. Never trust people who smile constantly. They're either selling something or not very bright. Wren didn't strike me as stupid. Insult ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

On the Gallows Once
Kofi Awoonor

I crossed quite a few
of your rivers, my gods,
into this plain where thirst reigns
I heard the cry of mourners
the long cooing of the African wren at dusk
the laughter of the children at dawn
had long ceased
night comes fast in our land
where indeed are the promised vistas
the open fields, blue skies, the singing birds
and abiding love?
History records acts
of heroism, barbarism
of some who had power
and abused it massively
of some whose progenitors
planned for them
the secure state of madness
from which no storm can shake them;
of some who took the last ships
disembarked on some far-off shores and forgot
of some who simply laid down the load
and went home to the ancestors ~ Kofi Awoonor

Hairy monkeyballs!" I hiss. "Dogshit on a stick! Puke pancakes!"
A head pokes in. Wren, green eyes smiling, walks over to my bed.
"I knew you were awake. Who else spews such original and captivating swears? ~ Sara Wolf

My father used to say that it's not enough to just beat an attacker off. You have to hurt them enough that they'll know not to tangle with you anymore. Or preferably kill them. (Wren) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Cath exhaled. Then inhaled. Her chest was so tight, it hurt both ways. Levi shouldn't get to make her feel this way - he shouldn't even have access to her chest. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Variety of uniformities makes complete beauty. ~ Christopher Wren

Anna Wren was not for him. She was of a different class than he, and, moreover, she was a respectable widow from the village. She wasn't a sophisticated society lady who might consider a liaison outside of wedlock. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The work of PME-ART is highly collaborative and is also very much about collaboration, about people working together, trying to negotiate what is meaningful to them, where and how they disagree, and how such agreements and disagreements might be evocatively conveyed. Collaboration is definitely not easy. As a teenager in Toronto I would see many one-person shows and think the reason there is only one person onstage has little to do with art and much to do with economics. I would see many shows where the people onstage felt like employees primarily doing what they had been told. Instead I wanted to see people onstage doing what they wanted to do, and felt that this wanting should include active, alive ways of working together.

However, looking back over the past twenty years, I also have to admit that I'm not completely sure collaboration is the place for me. It seems I am temperamentally ill-suited for it. Twenty years of doing something I'm ill-suited for and justifying it to myself through compelling artistic results. (This book is in many ways the story of this struggle.) Because though collaboration has never felt good, I still believe in it. Perhaps I believe in it even more because I find it so difficult. Perhaps I believe in it too much. We are all here on this planet, in our various societies and communities, and like it or not we must find ways to work together. The fact that it is often not easy makes it all that much more necessary.

I sometime ~ Jacob Wren

I love you, Wren," he said, voice strong and smooth as the river. "For everything that you are and everything that you aren't. ~ Kandi Steiner

Making love to Wren still feels like healing, like being made anew. ~ Natasha Ngan

But it's the hope of something better that keeps us going ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

The ocean, the desert, and the jungle are the last strongholds and resorts of peace. ("Fear") ~ P.C. Wren

And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce. ~ Geoffrey Chaucer

It was a good weekend. Five thousand words of Carry On. Fish tacos with radish and shredded cabbage. Only two more conversations about Wren. And Sunday afternoon brought Levi back, taking her front steps two at a time. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Wren, in her sleeping robe, standing close to a tall wolf demon, her head craned back to face him. The wolf: Moon caste, marbled ash-gray fur flowing silkily over angular features, a diamond-shaped patch of white on his long, muzzlelike jaw. He's dressed in soldier's clothes. One pawed hand is lifted to cup Wren's face, like the beginning of a kiss. ~ Natasha Ngan

So you know, i'm thinking that you can either keep yourself safe and not feel anything, or you can the risk of just loving him and letting him love you." she paused. "Is he worth the risk? And if not what is? What are you willing to take risk for, Wren? ~ Lauren Myracle

The most effective lie is always the closest to the truth. The closer the better. A dream is not true but is never a lie. There are various approaches for understanding dreams: as evidence of some deeper psychological truth, as alternate realities, as subtle yet surreal mental reprocessings of our daily lives, as experiences equally valid to those had while awake. Due to the acuity of their strangeness, dreams practically call out for interpretation. However, since we don't accurately know what consciousness is, since we don't know precisely what or how we experience being awake, why would we be able to know what happens when we dream? There are also various approaches one might use for understanding a lie. But one aspect generally agreed upon is that to tell the complete truth, and only the complete truth, at all times, is a disaster. There are different ways of being honest. ~ Jacob Wren

Her smile faded to a more serious expression. "Is everything okay? With Callum?"
"Fine," I said, taking a bite of meat and avoiding her eyes.
"He's crazy about you, you know," she said softly, like I hadn't just told her things were fine. "I see other girls looking at him sometimes, and he doesn't even notice. He only sees you. ~ Amy Tintera

Si monumentum requiris circumspice
(If you seek his monument, look around.)
[Epitaph on Wren's tomb in St. Paul's Cathedral] ~ Christopher Wren

Hiya, Aunty Wren!" Francesca shouted, waving her arms as if her aunt were several thousand feet away. "Wait a minute," she said, putting a finger to her lips, "I knows how you hates to be called 'Wren.' Should I call you Aunty Wyno? Or should I call you what Toby calls you? Toby calls you ah BEE EYE TEE SEE --"

"Aunt Wren is fine," said Wynona through clenched teeth. ~ Ash Gray

Wren laughs when I kneel on the floor and try to do a breakdance head-spin. I end up taking down two people before Kayla kicks me in a friendly manner to get me to stop. ~ Sara Wolf

Neither need we fear to diminish a miracle by explaining it. ~ Christopher Wren

Wren's voice dropped. "She feels terrible about it, Cath."
"Good!" Cath shouted. "So do I!" She took a step closer to her sister. "I'm
probably going to be crazy for the rest of my life, thanks to her. I'm going to
keep making fucked-up decisions and doing weird things that I don't even
realize are weird. People are going to feel sorry for me, and I won't ever have
any normal relationships - and it's always going to be because I didn't have a
mother. Always. That's the ultimate kind of broken. The kind of damage you never recover from. I hope she feels terrible. I hope she never forgives herself."
"Don't say that." Wren's face was red, and there were tears in her eyes.
"I'm not broken."
There weren't any tears in Cath's eyes. "Cracks in your foundation." She
shrugged.
"Fuck that."
"Do you think I absorbed all the impact? That when Mom left, it hit my
side of the car? Fuck that, Wren. She left you, too."
"But it didn't break me. Nothing can break me unless I let it."
"Do you think Dad let it? Do you think he chose to fall apart when she
left?"
"Yes!" Wren was shouting now. "And I think he keeps choosing. I think
you both do. You'd rather be broken than move on."
"Dad's sick, Wren," she said as calmly as she could manage.
"And your omelette's burnt. And I'd rather be broken than wasted." She set
the plate on the counter. "You can tell Laura to go fuck herself. Like, to infin ~ Rainbow Rowell

The almost complete, but temporary, loss of self that was involved - a loss of self present in all intense sexual encounters - doubled as an open door through which one could enter new areas of thought, as if one had left one's old self behind, as if within this new, amorphous territory, in which one was no longer one's previous self but had not yet become anything else, infinite modes of discovery became possible. The intimacy of our nakedness made us feel, or at least gave the illusion, that we were so much more directly engaged, both in dialogue with the larger world of ideas and with each other. This directness of being intertwined, exhausted and sated, of drifting in and out of sleep and having the strains of our discussions, of our nighty lessons, freely intermixed with half-remembered dreams forms the basis for a different kind of learning, learning that enters not only through the mind but also through skin and sweat and pores. In this way ideas are divested of their previously cold abstraction and instead gain heat, momentum and complicity. This is the deep learning, and there is no conduit for it other than one's intimate and ongoing personal experience. ~ Jacob Wren

Glory, glory, said the Bee, Hallelujah, said the Flea. Praise the Lord, remarked the Wren. At springtime all is born-again. ~ Eric Metaxas