Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Yer. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Yer Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including John Donne,Jodi Meadows,E.c. Segar,Marcus Tullius Cicero,Stacia Kane for you to enjoy and share.
Thy face is mine eye, and mine is thine.
Yours is the face that matters most. So yours is the one I wear. My unconscious reflection of you.
I yam what I am.Yam-- E.c. Segar
What is thine is mine, and all mine is thine.
A where's honest
Bad spellers of the world untie!
Oh, right, you're little list,
Just needed some space, you know?" "And the
You fucked-up hunk.
So you get I'm into you
[My characters are] conglomerations of past and present stages of civilization, bits from books and newspapers, scraps of humanity, rags and tatters of fine clothing, patched together as is the human soul
My mind s a center of divine operations
turned it over. "Your
connection between the two of us.
Everyone knows how to subtract the gross form of 'my' (tangible 'my'). But how can he know how to subtract the subtle, subtler and the subtlest forms of 'my'? That is the work of the 'Gnani Purush' [the enlightened one].
My enthusiasms ... constitute my reserves, my unexploited resources, perhaps my future.
You comin' or what?
familiar with most
The yoke of my birth
This narrowed self-image we will be calling the persona,
want to hang on to yourHang-- Max Lucado
Who you looking at-- Darren Shan
Oh.' A syllable can express a great deal. Will's sounded of resignation but also of swear words, and the smell of rotting vegetation, and wary amusement and bitten fingernails.
And I, being a possessive caveman, wanted to prove a point. You're mine.
certain things. It comes when you think certain
I consider my selfbeing ... that taste of myself, of I and me above and in all things, which is more distinctive than the taste of ale or alum, more distinctive than the smell of walnutleaf or camphor, and is incommunicable by any means to another man.
my body, my work, my voice, my confidence, my power, my determination to demand a life as potent, vibrant, public, and complex as any man's.
granted. My stomach
Mine, ... Mine is what she is.
We need to have a talk on the subject of what's yours and what's mine.
There is not one self. There are not ten selves. There is no self. ME is only a position in equilibrium. (One among a thousand others, continually possible and always at the ready.) An average of "me's," a movement in the crowd. In the name of many, I sign this book.
Our finger print represents our unique identity and individuality.
My brain? That's my second favorite organ.
Description here.
People get a kick out of my stupidity.
The thick plottens.
My wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart.
People are my greatest resource.
What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns and stools; If honest nature made you fools.
Something there is in cyberspace that doesn't love an apostrophe.
My mind's my kingdom.
Mind your P's and Q's.
"What is your best, your very best, ale a glass?" "Two pence halfpenny," says the landlord, "is the price of the Genuine Stunning Ale." "Then," says I, producing the money, "just draw me a glass of the Genuine Stunning, if you please, with a good head on it."
conversations, his
People are dreams and awkwardness and gawk.
can hear the still, small voice, your
You're a formidable riddler and I'll not match words with ye
English is a bitch
What is it? Tens, I can see the stick up your arse from here. I'm dying remember? Dying people don't have time for silly moods
people, the kind of man who
Music, my rampart and my only one.
This mental space is occupied and everything is mine.
You know you're like, my hero, right?
What can you take from me which is not already yours?-- Bruce Lee
My bones are my unique home.
You are my sickness,
You're my beginning, middle, and end.
My curiosity sister of larks.
Beer is my coffee.
Hey, no offense, but do you mind if you put both your palms where I can see 'em?
Takin' out my freak tonight
This thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.
As long as the egoism is alive, 'my-ness' remains within the self.
Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.
Yours
(now I'm even losing my name - it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)
My face is shaped like a face, and my body like a body, but my thoughts are very unusual. Piano from the third floor. Daisies on a roof.
Ah, yes. I remember my first beer.
Penetrates your iris, tenderest of sphincters,
Variant selves haunt
the corridors of my brain, people
my novels, crowd in like ghosts
drawn to blood when friends
or strangers tell me secrets,
hand me their troubles,
sweaters knit of hair and wire.
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers.
You may derive thoughts from others; your way of thinking, the mould in which your thoughts are cast, must be your own.
FROM WHENCE YOU SPRANG.
pavement artist - you
My air,my fire,my water,my earth,my soul.
Mind. Body. Soul. All of you for me. All of you mine.
their arrangement with
As soon as you start talking about mystique, you have none.
Any idea that is held in the mind that is either feared or revered will, begin at once to clothe itself in the most convenient and appropriate physical forms available.
The thinness of contemporary life. I can poke my finger through it.
Its treasures, as I love them, are imprinted in my memory; and if they are wrongly memorized
a lily where there are tulips, the boy's torn hat rakish at the wrong angle
then this only makes the pictures more mine.
I am my nearest neighbour.
Men of all ages have the same inclinations, over which reason exercises no control. Thus, wherever men are found, there are follies, ay, and the same follies.
Your life, your world.
There are bits of me in all my characters.
You mind is well-spring of life.
Am dining at Goldini's Restaurant, Gloucester Road, Kensington. Please come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver. S. H. It was a nice equipment for a respectable citizen to carry through the dim, fog-draped streets.
Mine! There isn't any such thing as mine. The world slips slithering through my fingers.
My soul,
how will I recognize you if we meet?
Our sense of being a person can come from being drawn into a wide social unit; our sense of selfhood can arise through the little ways in which we resist the pull. Our status is backed by the solid buildings of the world, while our sense of personal identity often resides in the cracks
Even your orgasms are mine.
YOU TAKA MY SPACE
I BREAKA YOUR FACE
You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense.
The sidewalks flash silver with mica.
Skyline smeared with geese.
By way of recognition
I lost the sound of your voice.
Once upon a time
Somebody say to me
(This is a dog talkin' now)
What is your Conceptual Continuity?
Well, I told him right then
(Fido said)
It should be easy to see
The crux of the biscuit
Is the Apostrophe(')
Dylan Quinn's knickers,
Spontaneity is the province of youth
You ought to recognise your special talent, for your specific purpose.
Image is psyche.
Mr. Paggle lifted his own ale in the air. "What shall we toast to?"
"Yarrow's right hook?" Peer said.
"Bray's unladylike nerve?" Arlow suggested.
"To new friends," Yarrow said.
"New friends," they agreed. Their glasses clinked merrily.
Ah God," has gasped. "Mine."
~Sed