Bassem Youssef Quotes

Walter Scott has no business to write novels, especially good ones. It is not fair. He has fame and profit enough as a poet, and should not be taking the bread out of other people's mouths. I do not like him, and do not mean to like Waverley if I can help it, but fear I must.

So let me ask you something: how's everybody doing tonight, huh? (audience cheers) Good, well, fuck you! Just trying to make you feel at home.

You sound like a hillbilly; We want folk singers here.

I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.

O God! If I worship You for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell

I don't wanna lose your face
And I don't wanna wake up one day
and not remember what time erased.
I don't wanna turn around
'Cause I'm not scared of what love gave me and took away.
And I don't wanna lose your face.

From the time they turned one they were tossed from the balconies of the kitchens, first with life preserves so they would lose their fear of the water, and then without life preservers so they would lose their respect for death.

In "Mystery Train" (1955), he rocks out with an astounding depth, Elvis' voice never sounding so rich, nor so pleading; best of all is his final spontaneous laugh & whoop of excitement, worth its weight in gold.

She knew what she knew, like a sound dogmatist: she did not know what she did not — like a sound agnostic.

Men are lying when they say they are terrified of blood.

Does it not move you strangely, the love-bird's cry, tonight when, like the drifting snow, memory piles up on memory?

I want to put out the fires of Hell, and burn down the rewards of Paradise. They block the way to Allah. I do not want to worship from fear of punishment or for the promise of reward, but simply for the love of Allah.

When you face your fear, you become familiar with it, and familiarity makes it lose its meaning, loosen its grip - fear ceases to be fear.

And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.

It's just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.

For it is not death or pain that is to be feared, but the fear of pain or death.