A Quote by Robert Breault

There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch. — © Robert Breault
There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch.
Little brats yellin 'Trick or Treat' all through my screen door, When y'all should be at home sleep, Instead of at my front porch 15 deep. The jack o' lantern came in handy... I can turn my porch light out like I ain't got no candy. But ain't that somethin? You buy a Halloween costume and a pumpkin, Almost gave your children a heart attack. It's a tradition, but who the hell started that?
It's true: I can't think of even a single way in which society suffers because of a 15-year-old trick-or-treater.
Women's orgasms will quadruple in intensity if she's in a beautiful, dimly lit room versus a brightly lit, uncomfortable room.
The sky aft was dark as pitch, but the moon still shone brightly ahead of us and lit up the blackness. Beneath its sheen a huge white-topped breaker, twenty feet high or more, was rushing on to us. It was on the break-the moon shone on its crest and tipped its foam with light. On it rushed beneath the inky sky, driven by the awful squall behind it.
Comedy is my favorite genre. I think it often doesn't get the respect it deserves, and I think one of the reasons is there was a tradition in the past of comedy looking kind of brightly lit and like a sitcom.
Adults ask questions as a child does. When you stop wondering, you might as well put your rocker on the front porch and call it a day.
My feeling about my own work is, I could be writing 'The Aeneid' and they would still have to call it chick lit or mommy lit or menopausal old hag lit.
Men,” she said as she took my arm and led me to the brightly lit room. “They forget we need to see the outcome of pain before we willingly put ourselves through it. How else would we suffer nine months to have a beautiful child? We already know we have guts.
In Vancouver, in Sydney and in Orange County, we live among fluorescent stores and streets so brightly lit that you can read a book after dark; in other places across our global body, there are blackouts and curfews every night.
What difference does it make whether you're looking at a photograph or looking at a still life in front of you? You still have to look.
When you keep the porch light on for the prodigal child, you do what God does every single moment.
Every child is a gift of Allah, and every child in Pakistan, to me, is like my own child, so I will do my best to take the message to every doorstep in Pakistan. Reaching every child, every time with the polio vaccine is not only necessary, but it is our duty. This disease can't deter us; we will defeat it.
Just once, I want to meet the villain in a cheerful, brightly lit room. Possibly one with kittens.
My dad loved to 'arrange things' to take us kids to that scared the crap out of us on Halloween. He'd take us to the old 'Hermit's House' at the edge of town. He'd park the car 100 yards down the street and say, 'Go back there and get something off the front porch!'
The stars which shone over Babylon and the stable in Bethlehem still shine as brightly over the Empire State Building and your front yard today.
A British porch is a musty, forbidding non-room in which to fling a sodden umbrella or a muddy pair of boots; a guard against the elements and strangers. By contrast the good ol' American front porch seems to stand for positivity and openness; a platform from which to welcome or wave farewell; a place where things of significance could happen.
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