It S Not Too Late Quotes

Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything? ~ Taylor Swift

The challenge is to manage the Web in an open way-not too much bureaucracy, not subject to political or commercial pressures. The U.S. should demonstrate that it is prepared to share control with the world. ~ Tim Berners-Lee

She told me that she did not like the idea of your being in that house all by yourself, and that she thought you took too much strong tea. In fact she wants me to advise you if possible to give up the tea and the very late hours. ~ Bram Stoker

Whatever we do, don't let's have any running. Especially not before supper; and not too soon after it neither. ~ C.S. Lewis

People are happiest when they're the most productive. People enjoy tasks, especially creative tasks, when the tasks are in the optimal-challenge zone: not too hard and not too easy. To some extent, that has always been true. But it becomes even more true as work becomes more about brains and creativity. ~ Eric S. Raymond

If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without blood shed;
if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may
come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves. ~ Winston S. Churchill

Max's unflinching gaze never left that house.
"What do you think's going to happen?" Jules asked him quietly, "if you let yourself peel that giant S off your shirt and take a nap? If you let yourself spend an hour, an evening, screw it, a whole weekend doing nothing more than breaking and taking enjoyment from living in the moment? What's going to happen, Max, if - after this is over - you give yourself permission to actually enjoy Gina's company? To sit with her arms around you and let yourself be happy. You don't have to be happy forever - just for that short amount of time."
Max didn't say anything.
So Jules went on. "And then maybe you could let yourself be happy again the next weekend. Not too happy," he added quickly. "We wouldn't want that. But just happy in a small way, because this amazing woman is part of your life, because she makes you smile and probably fucks like a dream and yeah - see? You are listening. Don't kill me, I was just making sure you hadn't checked out."
Max was giving him that look. "Are you done?"
"Oh, sweetie, we have nowhere to go and hours til dawn. I'm just getting started."
Shit, Max said with his body language. But he didn't stand up and walk away. He just sat there.
Across the street, nothing moved. And then it still didn't move. But once again, Max was back to watching it not move.
Jules let the silence go for an entire minute and a half. "Just in case I didn't make myself clear," he said, "I believe ~ Suzanne Brockmann

If we consider the unblushing promises of reward ... promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are far too easily pleased. ~ C.S. Lewis

Y-naga: "That's the thing ... It's like trying to find a guy who's a kid at heart but still a responsible adult, so he can be counted on when I find myself in a pinch, somebody who's a little wild at times but normally lets me have my way even when I'm being selfish and just says, "well, if you insist," a guy who's not too full of himself but understands what clothes suit his body type best ... "
S-hara: "What I'm saying is the pretty ones are stupid! The ones who have it all together are all so, so stubborn that they never do things my way! ~ Fumi Yoshinaga

There began to come to her a first dim realization of God's humility. Rejected by the proud in His own right by what humble means He chose to succor them; through the spirit of a child, a poor gypsy or an old man, by a song perhaps, or even it might be by the fall of a leaf or the scent of a flower. For His infinite and humble patience nothing was too small to advance His purpose of salvation and eternity was not too long for its accomplishment. ~ Elizabeth Goudge

Gundar, seeing Halt upright for the first time in two days, stumped up the deck to join them.
'Back on your feet then?' he boomed cheerfully, with typical Skandian tact. 'By Gorlag's toenails, with all the heaving abd puking you've been doing, I thought you'd turn yourself inside out and puke yourself over the rail!'...
'You do paint a pretty picture, Gundar,' Will said...
'Thank you for your concern,' Halt said icily...
'So, did you find Albert?' Gundar went on, unabashed. Even Halt was puzzled by this sudden apparent change of subject.
'Albert?' he asked. Too late, he saw Gundar's grin widening and knew he'd stepped into a trap.
'You seemed to be looking for him. You'd lean over the rail and call, 'Al-b-e-e-e-e-e-r-t!' I thought he might be some Araluen sea god.'
'No, I didn't find him. Maybe I could look for him in your helmet.'
He reached out a hand. But Gundar had heard what happened when Skandians lent their helmets to the grim-faced Ranger while onboard ship...
'No, I'm pretty sure he's not there,' he said hurriedly. ~ John Flanagan

lonely?" Eris took a deep breath and then released it. "I got along by minding my own business and staying out of everyone else's. Not too many people cared about a tall Indian kid with no parents. I didn't let anyone care, because I stayed out of everybody's way." "Weren't you lonely?" Madeleine repeated softly. "Yes," he said. "I was lonely. But I got along." She ~ S.K. Epperson

You've dated a shoplifter. A drug addict. A girl who claimed that her roommate kept her locked in a dumpster. She was admitted to Mulberry not too long ago, if I recall, right? They diagnosed her with schizophrenia." Reece nodded reluctantly. "For the record, I only dated her for two months. And also for the record, she's doing a lot better." "Hmm," Camden replied. "There's the one who put salt on all her food then complained incessantly of bloating problems. Oh yeah! And the one who wanted you to tie her up and beat the shit out of her every night." "All right already!" Reece snapped. "I get it. I haven't had the best of luck with normal women. ~ S. Walden

AN ARTIST'S PRAYER
O Great Creator,
We are gathered together in your name
That we may be of greater service to you
And to our fellows.
We offer ourselves to you as instruments.
We open ourselves to your creativity in our lives.
We surrender to you our old ideas.
We welcome your new and more expansive ideas.
We trust that you will lead us.
We trust that it is safe to follow you.
We know you created us and that creativity
Is your nature and our own.
We ask you to unfold our lives
According to your plan, not our low self-worth.
Help us to believe that it is not too late
And that we are not too small or too flawed
To be healed -
By you and through each other - and made whole.
Help us to love one another,
To nurture each other's unfolding,
To encourage each other's growth,
And understand each other's fears.
Help us to know that we are not alone,
That we are loved and lovable.
Help us to create as an act of worship to you. ~ Julia Cameron

Cruising along once again in this cesspool known as life, I realize that it is too late to make a detour. I will have to pass the anti-abortion pickets (50) outside of Planned Parenthood. Nothing gets on my nerves more than these pro-lifers. Not even astrology enthusiasts (51), Herman Hesse (52) or computer games (53). Look at these fools parading up and down! "Mind your own business," I yell. When one of these busybodies (a man, yet) approaches my car with literature, I lose control and scream, "I wish I was a girl so I could get an abortion!" Trembling with rage, I realize I'd better calm down before I get beat up, but can't resist one last taunt - "I hate the pope" (54), I yell to no one in particular. ~ John Waters

The reason we know as human beings that pictures have to be focused before you take the shot is because we know if we're not focusing our eyes on something that happens, then it's too late - you can't go searching in your memory to find it because that light never struck your mind. ~ Ren Ng

I relied on what I wrote to build a bridge which could not be cut down. It was my own self in which I trusted, not seeing self as that last cell from which escape can only come too late. ~ Anna Kavan

Claiming "the budget can't allow it" reminds me of when you walk into a restaurant at a civilized hour like ten o'clock and they say "the kitchen is closed." For years I would hear this, and think, "damn, just a little too late, oh well, thank you, I guess it's Denny's again."
And then one day it hit me: kitchens don't close. Just as at home, at a certain point in the night, I stop using the kitchen
but at three in the morning, if I want to, I still have the ability to go downstairs and "re-open" the kitchen by turning on the stove and opening the refrigerator! Restaurants are not banks; at the stroke of ten an enormous airlock doesn't seal off the kitchen and render the preparation of food an utter impossibility./ No, kitchens can open and budgets are what certain people say they are. ~ Bill Maher

No, I`ve never thought that I was gay. And that`s not something you think. It`s something you know. ~ Robert Plant

By the way, if you're ever conversing with an actual vampire, do not refer to the House of Shadows as Twilight Manor. There's a reason vampires aren't known for their senses of humour.
If you accidentally do so, I'd say run, but it's probably already too late. ~ Jacqueline Carey

You can have a normal life. It's not too late for you."
I nearly laughed. "You've clearly never met my parents. Normal was never an option. ~ Alyxandra Harvey

The morning grass was damp and cool with dew. My yellow rain slicker must have looked sharp contrasted against the bright green that spring provided. I must have looked like an early nineteenth century romantic poet (Walt Whitman, perhaps?) lounging around a meadow celebrating nature and the glory of my existence. But don't make this about me. Don't you dare. This was about something bigger than me (by at least 44 feet).

I was there to unselfishly throw myself in front of danger (nothing is scarier than a parked bulldozer), in the hopes of saving a tree, and also procuring a spot in a featured article in my local newspaper. It's not about celebrity for me, it's about showing that I care. It's not enough to just quietly go about caring anymore. No, now we need the world to see that we care. I was just trying to do my part to show I was doing my part.

But no journalists or TV news stations came to witness my selfless heroics. In fact, nobody came at all, not even Satan's henchmen (the construction crew). People might scoff and say, "But it was Sunday." Yes, it was Sunday. But if you're a hero you can't take a day off.

I'd rather be brave a day early than a day late. Most cowards show up late to their destiny. But I always show up early, and quite often I leave early too, but at least I have the guts to lay down my life for something I'd die for. Now I only laid down my life for a short fifteen-minute nap, but I can forever hold my chin high as I ~ Jarod Kintz

By the end of the seventies, some nights I was so out of it our road manager, Joe Baptista, would have to carry me onstage. The promoter would be sitting there in the dressing room with a look of horror on his face. I'm almost comatose, he's hyper-ventilating. He thinks he's presenting the legendary cash cow Aerosmith, and now he's going to lose his shirt because the lead singer's down for the count. Is he dead or alive? What am I going to do? "You'd better get him on that stage. I don't know how he's going to do this how, but we've got too many kids out there."

Not to worry. The minute my feet hit the stage, I'm off and running. I don't know how it happens, but hey, you get up there in front of twenty thousand people and it's a high in itself, it's a charged space.

Still, the train kept a rollin' and we kept getting high until one night in late '78, I don't know where we were, maybe in Springfield, Illinois, I blacked out in the middle of "Reefer Headed Woman."

I got a reefer headed woman
She fell right down from the sky
Well, I gots to drink me two fifths of whiskey
Just to get half as high
When the -

And then I hit the stage like a fish out of water. ~ Steven Tyler

Do not too late to tell me, I love you. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Even if Megan imagines differently, she [Jennifer] is not the tragic figure. Tommy is. Tommy always was. Nobody saw the tragedy in being the practical one. He was the one who fell painfully short of his potential, the one who even as he let his business flounder and drank too much and showed up late, continued to be though of as a *really great guy.* And he was a really great guy. ... And other people say that, the way he looked at her and all those other things. And so she was the villain. She was the one who didn't laugh at his joke, or looked pained when he gave in to the call to stay for another. She was the one who wanted to leave the party; he was the one who kept it going. The one who wants to leave the party is never the favored one. ~ Leah Stewart

It's too late," she said, her voice trembling. "You are not the beautiful innocent vagabond walking toward me under the dogwood blossoms, with his trunks and his head full of worthless notions. And I am not the beloved, cherished ladies' maid ... ~ Geraldine Brooks

When seeing the simple truth means recognizing that we're in sin, we would rather see things as being complicated. ~ Anna Sofia Botkin

I thought of him now-in his room-watching the sunrise; hoping I should soon come to say I would stay with him and be his. I longed to be his; I panted to return; it was not too late. ~ Charlotte Bronte

Herman Melville came to see me at the Consulate, looking much as he used to do (a little paler, and perhaps a little sadder), in a rough outside coat, and with his characteristic gravity and reserve of manner.... [W]e soon found ourselves on pretty much our former terms of sociability and confidence. Melville has not been well, of late; ... and no doubt has suffered from too constant literary occupation, pursued without much success, latterly; and his writings, for a long while past, have indicated a morbid state of mind.... Melville, as he always does, began to reason of Providence and futurity, and of everything that lies beyond human ken, and informed me that he had "pretty much made up his mind to be annihilated"; but still he does not seem to rest in that anticipation; and, I think, will never rest until he gets hold of a definite belief. It is strange how he persists -- and has persisted ever since I knew him, and probably long before -- in wondering to-and-fro over these deserts, as dismal and monotonous as the sand hills amid which we were sitting. He can neither believe, nor be comfortable in his unbelief; and he is too honest and courageous not to try to do one or the other. If he were a religious man, he would be one of the most truly religious and reverential; he has a very high and noble nature, and better worth immortality than most of us.

[after what would be their last meeting] ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

His full name is Ignazio Vitale, although once, not so long ago, he urged me to call him
Naz. And it was Naz who charmed me, who won me over and made me melt. It wasn't until
later that I got to know the true Ignazio, and by the time I met Vitale, it was far too late to just
walk away. ~ J.M. Darhower

Once, complaining that his mother tried to do things that blind people should not attempt, like lighting candles at Christmas, he said, "My mother wants to have her blindness and eat it, too." I imagined Phil's mother spooning blindness into her own open mouth like devil's food cake. But without texture or weight. Bittersweet and rich. Another time he said, regarding his father's late support checks, that calling him in Texas wouldn't help, it would just make the checks even later. "It's a vicious circus," Phil said. When I asked if he thought that perhaps writing a letter, explaining their situation - the mortgage payment late again, the electric company calling - might help, he said, "I'm virtuously certain it wouldn't," looking martyred and older than his years. ~ Laura Kasischke