God doesn't go to jail for the pound of weed you got caught going over the Laredo with - even though he apparently has the knowledge, power, and care to prevent it - you go to jail. God passes go and the courts collect two hundred dollars. Stephen Evans
I'm usually working on my own mythology, my own realm of created characters. Stories in mythology inspire me, though I may not be conscious of it. Anne Rice
And though I know there is one way out for me, you must not and I must not take it! She looked appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her husband.
I don't necessarily write everything as automatically assuming it will be collected, there's nothing that says Hitman will be collected, though it might be. Garth Ennis
Asked at the hearing why she hadn't pressed the FBI more closely about what it knew, or didn't know, about domestic terrorist threats, Rice acted as though the question was an odd one: it wasn't her job. Well, in retrospect, it was and now certainly is. Howard Fineman
The point here is that physics followed the data where it seemed to lead, even though some thought the model gave aid and comfort to religion. Michael Behe
But go on, valiant champion; you die not as a fool, though the apostate, unfaithful, and lukewarm ministers and professors of this generation think and say so. Donald Cargill
And, finally, Lincoln was not a good impromptu speaker; he was at his best when he could read from a carefully prepared manuscript. Though maybe a teleprompter could have helped that! David Herbert Donald
The Cistercians do not eat meat... Yet they keep pigs to the number of many thousands, and sell the bacon - though perhaps not quite all of it. The heads, legs, and feet they neither give away, throw away, nor sell. What becomes of them God knows. Walter Map
I'm planning a different show, though for obvious reasons some of the material will be the same, and of course I will perform material from the new CD. George Duke
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. John Muir
