A Quote by Ambrose Bierce

critic, n. A person who boasts himself hard to please because nobody tries to please him. — © Ambrose Bierce
critic, n. A person who boasts himself hard to please because nobody tries to please him.
Please, please, please, please, please...,", squeezing his eyes shut because it somehow made the words more pure.
When I was first writing, my little prayers were, 'Please, please, please. Let something be published someday.' Then it went to, 'Please, please, please. Let somebody read this.'
Dear God, please let him have heard me. Please. Please. If you're up there. Somewhere.
I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead. "Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, please, Bella, please!" he begged. Yes, I wanted to say. Anything. But I couldn't find my lips. "Carlisle!" the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. "Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no!" And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs. The angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. I tried to find him, to tell him everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me, and I couldn't breathe.
Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?
Let him grow taller,she asked the gods.Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty. Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. Please, please, please.
To live as God's child is to know that you are loved by your Maker not because you try to please him and succeed, or fail to please him and apologize, but because he wants to be your Father. Nothing more.
To please everybody is impossible; were I to undertake it, I should probably please nobody.
If you are writing comedy and try to please everybody, you'll please nobody.
If you are writing comedy and try to please everybody, you'll please nobody.
Those who seek to please everybody please nobody.
There's a wonderful old Italian joke about a poor man who goes to church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint,'Dear saint-please, please, please...give me the grace to win the lottery.' This lament goes on for months. Finally the exasperated statue come to life, looks down at the begging man and says in weary disgust,'My son-please, please, please...buy a ticket.
Please don't take him away from this world. Please don't let him die here in my arms, not after everything we've been through together, not after You've taken so many others. Please, I beg You, let him live. I am willing to sacrifice anything to make this happen- I'm willing to do anything You ask. Maybe you'll laugh at me for such a naive promise, but I mean it in earnest, and I don't care if it makes no sense or seems impossible. Let him live. Please. I can't bear this a second time. Tell me there is still good in this world. Tell me there is still hope for all of us.
He that can please nobody is not so much to be pitied as he that nobody can please.
I think I'd want to see the Hollywood sign, that's for sure. I've never seen that yet. And oh, please, please, please, can I go to Disneyland?
Please, please, please - I would love to do some comedy. Once you have a reputation for one thing - in my case, crying and dying - you are typecast.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!