Quotes About Impact

One person can change a community, united people can change the world.

Some words can make or break a person, but they'll never forget the words that were spoken.

How can the spirit of the earth like the white man?... Everywhere the white man has touched it, it is sore.

When elephants fight it is the grass that suffers.

Non multa sed multum [Not many but much].

If we're going to get the world running on nuclear power instead of coal one day – and let me tell you, after living in Manchester, that'll make a big difference to a great many people

Quien alguna vez ha leído con atención estos textos, ya no los podrá olvidar nunca. Estas historias han impactado interiormente a hombres y mujeres a lo largo de los siglos.

Quando um coração se fecha, faz muito mais barulho do que uma porta.

Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.

Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks - on your body or on your heart - are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.

Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.

That shut her up real horrorshow and lovely.

Whatever the dangers of the action we take, the dangers of inaction are far, far greater.

Two or three notes of music can instantly make you feel sad or tense or afraid or angry. To do that in words is much more difficult.

The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.

Isn't doing nothing a kind of troublemaking?

And when a book goes out of the world, the memory dies a second death.

It's not so much the contents of the song. It's that the song was still being sung.

The war that killed your grandfather killed sixteen million others. One and a half million French boys alone, most of them younger than I was. Two million on the German side. March the dead in a single-file line, and for eleven days and eleven nights, they'd walk past our door.

Men cluster to me like moths around a flame, and if their wings burn, I know I'm not to blame.

An avalanche descends onto the city. A hurricane. Teacups drift off shelves. Paintings slip off nails. In another quarter second, the sirens are inaudible. Everything is inaudible. The roar becomes loud enough to separate membranes in the middle ear.

It was hard to live through the early 1940s in France and not have the war be the center from which the rest of your life spiraled.

Humans are best understood as exterminators, he says. Every habitat we enter, we decimate, and now we have overrun the earth. The next thing we exterminate will be ourselves.

To a certain extent, time was malleable, what he did did matter. Grace was proof of that. Naaliyah was alive.