Retmi Note Quotes

As a little kid, I used to lock myself in my room and put on my Whitney Houston CD's and pretend to be her and try and hit every single note that she hit. I used to dream that one day that would be me. ~ Ricki-Lee Coulter

But, Miss Spencer, I should strike a note of caution. I know there have been women archaeologists in Greece, in Turkey. Even Egypt. But this is Peshawar. Pathan men don't much like the idea of women ... '
'Don't much like the idea of women doing what?'
'Don't much like the idea of women. ~ Kamila Shamsie

Take good note of it. Nothing is too small. Record even your doubts and guesses. Then afterwards it will be of interest how true you guess. We can learn from failure, not from success! (pg.121) ~ S.G.D. Singh

I can't help it if the ladies take note of me; I am not going to protest. ~ Nelson Mandela

I should have never left the inn,' she whispered. 'I shouldn't have done it!'
There was something in the ground that Ma had warned in her note. It was real. And Lettie hadn't listened, and now this ... ~ Sam Gayton

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
I lie in bed beside my little sister, listening to the singing in the yard. Life is transformed, by these voices, by these presences, by their high spirits and grand esteem, for themselves and each other. My parents, all of us, are on holiday. The mixture of voices and words is so complicated and varied it seems that such confusion, such jolly rivalry, will go on forever, and then to my surprise - for I am surprised, even though I know the pattern of rounds - the song is thinning out, you can hear the two voices striving.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Then the one voice alone, one of them singing on, gamely, to the finish. One voice in which there is an unexpected note of entreaty, of warning, as it hangs the five separate words on the air. Life is. Wait. But a. Now, wait. Dream. ~ Alice Munro

It looks like-"
"- a museum," Ariane said, with the smallest note of envy. I shrugged.
"I was going to go with fancy rehab facility. But that works too. ~ Stacey Kade

Is Darling still awake?" She stepped back so that he could see Ryn. "He is." Hauk headed for the bed. "Fain sent me a note about what's going on with the locals. I'm here with backup." Darling growled. "Not helpless, people." "Not people, human," Hauk said in an exasperated tone. Darling made an obscene gesture at him. "I thought I got rid of you when I left the hospital." Hauk clutched his chest as if those words wounded him. "Aww now, Dar, you're going to hurt my feelings." "You don't have feelings." "True. Just think of me like a bad STD. I always show up at the worst time." He glanced back at Zarya. "So much for your hot date, huh?" Darling groaned. "You are ever a pain in my ass, Hauk. Should I reset the timers on my explosives in the city? Might give the Resistance pause if they think I'm going to take them or their families with me." Ryn ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

This is from Elizabeth," it said. "She has sold Havenhurst." A pang of guilt and shock sent Ian to his feet as he read the rest of the note: "I am to tell you that this is payment in full, plus appropriate interest, for the emeralds she sold, which, she feels, rightfully belonged to you."
Swallowing audibly, Ian picked up the bank draft and the small scrap of paper with it. On it Elizabeth herself had shown her calculation of the interest due him for the exact number of days since she'd sold the gems, until the date of her bank draft a week ago.
His eyes ached with unshed tears while his shoulders began to rock with silent laughter-Elizabeth had paid him half a percent less than the usual interest rate.
Thirty minutes later Ian presented himself to Jordan's butler and asked to see Alexandra. She walked into the room with accusation and ire shooting from her blue eyes as she said scornfully, "I wondered if that note would bring you here. Do you have any notion how much Havenhurst means-meant-to her?"
"I'll get it back for her," he promised with a somber smile. "Where is she?"
Alexandra's mouth fell open at the tenderness in his eyes and voice.
"Where is she?" he repeated with calm determination.
"I cannot tell you," Alex said with a twinge of regret.
"You know I cannot. I gave my word."
"Would it have the slightest effect," Ian countered smoothly, "if I were to ask Jordan to exert his husbandly influence to persuade you to tell me a ~ Judith McNaught

I know my heart, Matthew. I know what I feel won't change." She took a shuddering breath and extended one unsteady hand in his direction. Her voice shook with intensity. "When I tell you I love you, that means I'll love you forever."
What does a man do when his dearest dreams come true?
Matthew stared at her outstretched hand. He'd never imagined this time would come. He wasn't prepared. Her words soaked into his soul, slowly turning the parched desert there into a verdant garden.
"You love me," he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, "By God, you love me." His astonished laugh ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.
"So much," she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. "So very, very much."
He dragged her back into his arms. "I can't believe it."
"Believe it," she whispered. She raised her hands to frame his face so she could look into his eyes. The blue was so pure that he saw right to her gallant, steadfast soul. "I love you, Matthew. I will always love you."
"And I love you, Grace."
Such simple words to change his life. Yet after tonight, he'd never be the same man again. ~ Anna Campbell

Take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry (James 1:19, NIV). Are ~ Broadstreet Publishing Group LLC

I try to remember dreams, and occasionally I'll make a note or two in a notebook if it's something extra interesting. They do mean quite a lot to me, and they don't happen all that often. In other words, I don't have some kind of loud, Technicolor dream every night. But a few times a month, I'll have a rather interesting dream. They're mostly visual - oddly enough, I don't have much dialogue in my dreams. They just don't speak. ~ Kenneth Anger

She was playing something so low and soft that it felt as if she were humming it ... notes built and subsided, as if a giant were softly breathing them, as if each note was a drop of water going down a stream filled with rocks. ~ Eloisa James

I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run; The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure; Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure; Time shall not lose our passages. ~ John Donne

If you have someone in your life that you are grateful for - someone to whom you want to write another heartfelt, slanted, misspelled thank you note - do it. Tell them they made you feel loved and supported. That they made you feel like you belonged somewhere and that you were not a freak. Tell them all of that. Tell them today. ~ Lisa Jakub

Your story is not a picture of life; it lacks the elements of truth. And why? Simply because you run straight on to the end; because you do not analyze. Your heroes do this thing or that from this or that motive, which you assign without ever a thought of dissecting their mental and moral natures. Our feelings, you must remember, are far more complex than all that. In real life every act is the
resultant of a hundred thoughts that come and go, and these
you must study, each by itself, if you would create a living
character. 'But,' you will say, 'in order to note these fleeting
thoughts one must know them, must be able to follow them in their capricious meanderings.You have simply to make use of hypnotism, electrical or human, which gives one a two-fold being, setting free the witness-personality so that it may see, understand, and remember the reasons which determine the personality that acts. ~ Jules Verne

Fear has a lot of flavors and textures. There's a sharp, silver fear that runs like lightning through your arms and legs, galvanizes you into action, power, motion. There's heavy, leaden fear that comes in ingots, piling up in your belly during the empty hours between midnight and morning, when everything is dark, every problem grows larger, and every wound and illness grows worse. And there is coppery fear, drawn tight as the strings of a violin, quavering on one single note that cannot possibly be sustained for a single second longer - but goes on and on and on, the tension before the crash of cymbals, the brassy challenge of the horns, the threatening rumble of the kettle drums. That's the kind of fear I felt. Horrible, clutching tension that left the coppery flavor of blood on my tongue. Fear of the creatures in the darkness around me, of my own weakness, the stolen power the Nightmare had torn from me. And fear for those around me, for the folk who didn't have the power I had. ~ Jim Butcher

But even though questions of currency policy are never more than questions of the value of money, they are sometimes disguised so that their true nature is hidden from the uninitiated. Public opinion is dominated by erroneous views on the nature of money and its value, and misunderstood slogans have to take the place of clear and precise ideas. The fine and complicated mechanism of the money and credit system is wrapped in obscurity, the proceedings on the Stock Exchange are a mystery, the function and significance of the banks elude interpretation. So it is not surprising that the arguments brought forward in the conflict of the different interests often missed the point altogether. Counsel was darkened with cryptic phrases whose meaning was probably hidden even from those who uttered them. Americans spoke of 'the dollar of our fathers' and Austrians of 'our dear old gulden note'; silver, the money of the common man, was set up against gold, the money of the aristocracy. Many a tribune of the people, in many a passionate discourse, sounded the loud praises of silver, which, hidden in deep mines, lay awaiting the time when it should come forth into the light of day to ransom miserable humanity, languishing in its wretchedness. ~ Ludwig Von Mises

Over them, in a swaying, muddy mist, hung the flies, snoring on a single note. ~ John Le Carre

Her voice was husky, vibrating, slightly flat, coming in just under each note like a saucer under a cup. ~ Lorrie Moore

It is useful to constantly observe, note, and consider. ~ Leonardo Da Vinci

And Jesus began to say to them, "See to it that no one misleads you. Many will come in My name, saying, 'I am He!' and will mislead many."

Here Christ cautions His present and future disciples from being misled, meaning not to be deceived, caused to err from the truth, or lead to form a wrong judgment. It is important for us to note that we can be deceived if we heed deceivers, instead of Christ Jesus. Many claim and will claim to know Him, but will point us to themselves, to traditions, to lies, and anything instead of to Christ! We must be careful. ~ Billy Witt

Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends.
How can he explain that to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from the castle walls, but from counting houses, not be the call of the bugle, but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot. ~ Hilary Mantel

Land and sea.
We may think of them as opposites; as complements. But there is a difference in how we think of them; the sea, and the land.
If we are walking around in a forest, a meadow or a town, we see our surroundings as being made up of individual elements. There are many different kinds of trees in varying sizes, those buildings, these streets. The meadow, the flowers, the bushes. Our gaze lingers on details, and if we are standing in a forest in the autumn, we become tongue-tied if we try to describe the richness around us. All this exists on land.
But the sea. The sea is something completely different. The sea is one.
We may note the shifting moods of the sea. What the sea looks like when the wind is blowing, how the sea plays with the light, how it rises and falls. But still it is always the sea we are talking about. We have given different parts of the sea different names for navigation and identification, but if we are standing before the sea, there is only one whole. The Sea.
If we are taken so far out in a small boat that no land is visible in any direction, we may catch sight of the sea. It is not a pleasant experience. The sea is a god, an unseeing, unhearing deity that does not even know we exist. We mean less than a grain of sand on an elephant's back, and if the sea wants us, it will take us. That's just the way it is. The sea knows no limits, makes no concessions. It has given us everything and it can take everything away from us.John Ajvide Lindqvist

Oceans Sea