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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave The other day, when I was deciding where to place a mountain range, how to make a river's flow detour around underground stalactite caves, and what precise color to give the sky at sunset, I realized I was God... or an artist and a writer. - Quote by Vera Nazarian

The other day, when I was deciding where to place a mountain range, how to make a river’s flow detour around underground stalactite caves, and what precise color to give the sky at sunset, I realized I was God… or an artist and a writer.

Vera Nazarian
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A boomerang returns back to the person who throws it.But first, while moving in a circle, it hits its target.So does gossip.
Vera Nazarian
The great miraculous bell of translucent ice is suspended in mid-air.It rings to announce endings and beginnings. And it rings because there is fresh promise and wonder in the skies.Its clear tones resound in the placid silence of the winter day, and echo long into the silver-blue serenity of night.The bell can only be seen at the turning of the year, when the days wind down into nothing, and get ready to march out again.When you hear the bell, you feel a tug at your heart.It is your immortal inspiration.
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To every rule there is an exception—and an idiot ready to demonstrate it. Don't be the one!
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Thing is," Grial said in a conspiratorial voice, "let me tell you a little secret, girlie. That road- those roads, all roads and paths in fact- they never end. You might think they do. You might think they just narrow and fade and disappear in the hoary depths of the forest? Not so, not at all! They merely go into hiding, and you just have to search a bit harder to see them.
Vera Nazarian
What is blood but the wine of life?
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Luck is not as random as you think.Before that lottery ticket won the jackpot, someone had to buy it.
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Worry is the secret weapon perpetrated upon us by the dark forces of the world that lurk in the shape of fear, uncertainty, confusion, and loss.We, on the other hand, have our own secret weapon against these incorporeal fiends.It is laughter.
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A great ancient poet was blind. A great classical composer was deaf. Many of us are dumb. What have we to show for it?
Vera Nazarian
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