Quotes About Asks

A true Leader asks advice, when he has time to think; but he never asks advice in a crisis. He acts.

There are two fools in every marketplace; one asks too little, one asks too much.

Life asks not merely what you can do; it asks how much can you endure and not be spoiled.

Poets are political, they have to be reflections of their times [because] they're living in their times... Poetry is political in that it's standing in opposition to fascism. Good poetry asks a bunch of questions and asks the audience to interact with themselves or see themselves in it; maybe you like it or you don't like it. But the fascist sort of stuff plays on your fears and tells you to jump on the party line and gives some simple excuses - blame this person.

Some people think they are such geniuses and just thought of that. They think they are so smart, like they say "All this talk about Kurt Vile and no one asks him where he got his stupid name from," or, "No one asks where he stole his name from." And I'm like, "Oh, you're a genius."

Across a chasm of eighteen hundred years, Jesus Christ makes a demand which is beyond all others difficult to satisfy; He asks for that which a philosopher may often seek in vain at the hands of his friends, or a father of his children, or a bride of her spouse, or a man of his brother. He asks for the human heart; He will have it entirely to Himself. He demands it unconditionally; and forthwith His demand is granted. Wonderful!

Limited love asks for possession of the beloved, but the unlimited asks only for itself.

We are often taught to look for the beauty in all things, so in finding it, the layman asks the philosopher while the philosopher asks the photographer.

You don't want to raise a kid in a culture where the kid who asks the most questions is annoying. You want a culture where the kid who asks the most questions gets awards and gets another piece of cake.

The manager asks how and when; the leader asks what and why.

Anyone or anything that asks you to be untrue to yourself has already acted against you.

I want to reform the tax code so that it's simple, fair, and asks the wealthiest households to pay higher taxes on incomes over $250,000 - the same rate we had when Bill Clinton was president; the same rate we had when our economy created nearly 23 million new jobs, the biggest surplus in history, and a lot of millionaires to boot.

I am sure that no man asks mercy and grace with true meaning, but if mercy and grace have first been given him.

Why haven’t you asked me how I do my tricks?” Celia asks, once they have reached the point where she is certain he is not simply being polite about the matter. “Because I do not wish to know,” he says. “I prefer to remain unenlightened, to better remain in the dark.

Emma hears me come up the stairs and asks me to watch a movie with her. I stick Band-Aids on my weeping cuts, put on pink pajamas so we match, and snuggle with her under her rainbow comforter. She arranges all of her stuffed animals around us in a circle, everyone facing the TV, then presses play...Ghosts dare not enter here.

His guilt is why Acheron went out of his way to make sure that all of you had servants and pay for your work. The Dark-Hunters owe that man everything, and I do mean everything. He pays in blood every time one of you wants to go free, and he suffers every day so that you can all live your cushy little lives of wealth and privilege.” … “And I have to say that every time one of your turns on him, it seriously pisses me off. Acheron asks nothing from any of you and that’s exactly what he receives.

If someone asks for a soft drink at a party, we no longer think he is a wimp.

...it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, when what you want to be asked is Kings of England.

The industrial food system is so cruel and so horrific in its treatment of animals. It never asks the question: 'Should a pig be allowed to express its pig-ness?'

...When someone asks me to help create a room my first reaction, if I do not already know the person, is to try to feel out what he or she really wants the room to be and to understand, if possible, what "memory," old or new, has brought this idea about.

The regime had understood that one person leaving her house while asking herself: Are my trousers long enough?' Is my veil in place?' Can my make-up be seen?' Are they going to whip me?' No longer asks herself: Where is my freedom of thought?' Where is my freedom of speech?' My life, is it livable?' What's going on in the political prisons?

Mixing pop and politics he asks me what the use is / I offer him embarrassment and my usual excuses.

You know, a friend of mine asked me before I got here... it was when we were all shipping out. He asked me, 'Why are you going to fight somebody else's war? What, do y'all think you're heroes?' I didn't know what to say at the time, but if he asked me again, I'd say no. I'd say there's no way in hell. Nobody asks to be a hero. It just sometimes turns out that way.

When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness' sake.

Everyone always asks me who my muse is, or who's the girl I have in mind, which is such a hard question for me to answer because I feel like it's a sensibility that varies for each individual.

The music of a marathon is a powerful strain, one of those tunes of glory. It asks us to forsake pleasures, to discipline the body, to find courage, to renew faith and to become one's own person, utterly and completely.

With my eyes closed, I ask if she knows how this will all turn out. "Long-term or short-term?" she asks. Both. "Long-term," she says, "we're all going to die. Then our bodies will rot. No surprise there. Short-term, we're going to live happily ever after." Really? "Really," she says. "So don't sweat it.

When McDonald's opened up in Moscow - I happened to be there when it opened and wandered in. And the Russians were queuing three times around the block to get in. And when they got to the head of the queue, they'd go, "I'll have a Big Mac please. Have you the cheese and the rolls? And do you have the meat and do you have the salad?" And everybody asks this because they are so used to things being awful that it took them a quarter of an hour to order a Big Mac.

It used to be said that, socially speaking, Philadelphia asked who a person is, New York how much is he worth, and Boston what does he know. Nationally it has now become generally recognized that Boston Society has long cared even more than Philadelphia about the first point and has refined the asking of who a person is to the point of demanding to know who he was. Philadelphia asks about a man's parents; Boston wants to know about his grandparents.

'What do you really think happens after you die?' That's the question that everyone, everyone, everyone asks. And I'm so sick of it. But my true answer is, I don't know. And there's no way I'm going to find out 'til it happens.

We have a hunger of the mind which asks for knowledge of all around us, and the more we gain, the more is our desire; the more we see, the more we are capable of seeing.

I hear footsteps and Four's hands wrap around my wrists. I let him pry my hands from my eyes. He encloses one of my hands perfectly between two of his. The warmth of his skin overwhelms the ache in my fingers from holding the bars. "You all right?" he asks, pressing our hands together. "Yeah." He starts to laugh.

A good engineer thinks in reverse and asks himself about the stylistic consequences of the components and systems he proposes.

What happened?" Bailey asks. "That is somewhat difficult to explain," Tsukiko answers. "It is a long and complicated story." "And you're not going to tell me, are you?" She tilts her head a bit ... "No, I am not," she says. "Great," Bailey mutters under his breath... "The bonfire exploded? How?" "Remember when I said it was difficult to explain? That has not changed.

If anyone asks me whether I like being a popular writer, I ask them whether they think I'd rather be an unpopular writer.

More than one skillful physician has said that if one asks the right questions, the patient will make the diagnosis for you in his or her own words.

one year as his wife, and id have become one of those abject, quaking women who look at their husbands when someone asks them a question. I've always despised that type, but I see how it happens now

The healthy and strong individual is the one who asks for help when he needs it. Whether he's got an abscess on his knee or in his soul.

What are you thinking?" he asks. I know Gage hates it when I cry - he is completely undone by the sight of tears - so I blink hard against the sting. "I'm thinking how thankful I am for everything," I say, "even the bad stuff. Every sleepless night, every second of being lonely, every time the car broke down, every wad of gum on my shoe, every late bill and losing lottery ticket and bruise and broken dish and piece of burnt toast." His voice is soft. "Why, darlin'?" "Because it all led me here to you.

I have been feeling very much lately that cheerful insecurity is what our Lord asks of us.

The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.

Mr Lorry asks the witness questions: Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked down stairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick at the top of a staircase, and fell down stairs of his own accord.

Here's what happens in a play. You get involved in a situation where something is unbalanced. If nothing's unbalanced, there's no reason to have a play. If Hamlet comes home from school, and his dad's not dead and asks him if he's had a good time, it's boring. But if something's unbalanced, it must be returned to order.

There's nothing people like better than being asked an easy question. For some reason, we're flattered when a stranger asks us where Maple Street is in our hometown and we can tell him.

People think of the inventor as a screwball, but no one ever asks the inventor what he thinks of other people.

Religion asks you to learn from the experience of others. Spirituality urges you to seek your own.

I think I'm a homebody. I don't talk to anyone. I sit at home, and no one asks me questions or I'm talking about goat noises.

There is a lore simple and sure, that asks no discipline of weary years--the language of the soul, told through the eye.