Crumpled Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
after-writing-page-hemingway-would-let-it-float-to-ground-he-never-crumpled-pages-he-believed-that-if-you-crumpled-them-youd-be-insane-in-year-clive-owen
trust-is-like-a-paper-once-its-crumpled-it-cant-be-perfect-again
trust-is-like-paper-once-its-crumpled-it-cant-be-perfect-again-auliq-ice
a-party-is-political-tool-if-its-no-longer-useful-it-should-be-crumpled-up-thrown-away-shintaro-ishihara
i-leaned-on-him-for-support-when-i-got-out-cab-he-just-crumpled-to-ground-thats-how-we-found-out-mickey-mantle
dirty-clean-crumpled-finely-creased-you-are-still-priceless-to-those-who-love-you-norlito-baclayen
iron-deficiency-can-lead-to-wardrobe-full-crumpled-clothes-benny-bellamacina
i-feel-like-crumpled-up-piece-paper-that-has-something-really-important-written-on-it-but-no-one-will-ever-know-what-that-is-because-all-they-see-is-something-thats-been-discarde
a-manifesto-diary-crumpled-suicide-note-still-relevant-love-letter-art-spiegelman
they-are-frail-humans-so-easily-crumpled-broken-like-flower-petals-under-foot-jennifer-melzer
someday-magnus-said-looking-at-crumpled-royal-person-at-his-feet-i-must-write-my-memoirs-cassandra-clare
mocking-realization-that-money-was-just-colorful-crumpled-paper-hardly-different-from-candy-wrapper-market-itself-little-more-than-casino-paul-theroux
i-never-lose-sight-whole-an-impeccable-dress-is-made-to-be-lived-in-to-be-torn-wet-stained-crumpled-anais-nin
sandar-came-to-stand-beside-him-frowning-down-at-crumpled-high-lord-he-does-not-look-mighty-lying-there-he-said-wonderingly-he-does-not-look-much-greater-than-me-robert-jordan
she-is-wiry-blanched-creature-with-no-beauty-her-expression-reminds-him-crumpled-letter-there-is-both-sadness-anger-in-it-glenn-haybittle
i-found-that-things-werent-going-well-upstairs-carter-was-crumpled-heap-chicken-warrior-on-slope-pyramid-rick-riordan
like-small-flame-match-to-cigarette-rudolfs-fury-lit-crumpled-edge-his-german-soul-geraldine-birch
ill-cut-jewels-in-shape-crumpledup-pieces-paper-her-wedding-ring-may-look-like-my-33rd-attempt-at-my-marriage-vows-jarod-kintz
yes-we-have-prototyped-cars-that-can-drive-by-themselves-but-without-smart-vision-they-cannot-really-tell-difference-between-crumpled-paper-bag-on-road-which-can-be-run-over-rock
the-flyscreen-door-slammed-behind-me-my-feet-dragged-i-reached-each-arm-into-jacket-warm-sleeves-crumpled-collar-hands-in-pockets-okay-i-walked-markus-zusak
colleen-had-this-idea-faded-crumpled-smudged-idea-that-being-nice-counted-for-something-lauren-tarshis
only-one-thing-mattered-this-was-not-horcrux-dumbledore-had-weakened-himself-by-drinking-that-horrible-potion-for-nothing-harry-crumpled-parchment-in-his-hand-his-eyes-burned-wit
i-couldnt-help-thinking-about-my-dream-with-annabeth-crumpled-lifeless-in-lukes-arms-here-i-was-rescuing-baby-monsters-but-i-couldnt-save-my-friend-rick-riordan
sunday-is-likely-day-to-write-poem-because-poetry-is-piece-language-flying-around-youll-find-notebooks-something-on-your-phone-its-about-finding-them-getting-them-off-that-crumpl
i-crumpled-up-piece-paper-threw-it-in-garbage-then-i-quickly-snatched-it-out-because-hell-id-just-tossed-out-frank-gehry-knockoff-what-you-call-trash-i-call-architecture-jarod-ki
i-think-about-celestial-junk-like-maybe-every-planet-in-this-solar-system-is-discarded-by-giant-hands-each-star-crumpled-ball-paper-love-letter-lit-on-fire-smoldering-bit-cigaret
there-was-moth-in-there-it-still-had-its-wings-crumpled-up-it-was-just-starting-to-pump-its-wings-up-life-continues-in-lots-places-life-is-laurel-clark
lena-felt-like-child-worse-than-child-less-valuable-she-felt-like-mouse-no-smaller-than-mouse-less-alive-her-life-seemed-small-crumpled-you-could-shoot-it-through-straw-like-spit
The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand. -should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't belong with a man like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn't be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you. You would say it's too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you- And there it stopped.

Lisa Kleypas
the-letter-had-been-crumpled-up-tossed-onto-grate-it-had-burned-all-around-edges-names-at-top-bottom-had-gone-up-in-smoke-but-there-was-enough-bold-black-scrawl-to-reveal-that-it
Despite the chaos that was tearing her head apart, Tevi understood what scene Yenneg was attempting to play out, with herself as a conscripted actor. She needed to force out an explanation or denial, but no words could get past her lips. Jemeryl's presence was paralysing her, an effect far more irresistible than anything Yenneg had achieved. Tevi watched Jemeryl take another few steps forwards and then crouch down so that their eyes were no more than a foot apart. Tevi thought she would die from the shock. Yet somehow, she forced her mouth to shape the words, "Wine. Love potion." Her voice was not loud enough even to count as a whisper. Certainly nobody else in the room would have heard, yet Tevi could not control her breathing to manage anything else. At first Jemeryl showed no sign of comprehension, but then suddenly, the bewilderment on her face transformed into fury. She leapt up, her arms moving in a blurred aggressive swirl. The gesture ended with an action like hurling a ball. Blue fire erupted from Jemeryl's hands and shot towards Yenneg. The other sorcerer had obviously recognised the gesture and made an effort to protect himself. A shimmering shield sprung up before Yenneg, but it was not strong enough, and the shockwave knocked him off his feet. His shoulders slammed into the wall behind him and he crumpled to the floor. Jemeryl had been telling the truth when she claimed to vastly excel the acolytes in magical ability, not that Tevi had ever entertained doubts. Jemeryl's hands moved again, and this time Yenneg was sprawled on the floor and in no state to mount a defence. A second bolt of blue fire burst in his direction. Lightning in the form of a whip snapped across the room, intercepting Jemeryl's attack before it struck. The diverted fireball hit the wall of the summerhouse two feet from Yenneg's head and smashed through it, as if it were a stone going through wet paper.

Jane Fletcher
despite-chaos-that-was-tearing-her-head-apart-tevi-understood-what-scene-yenneg-was-attempting-to-play-out-with-herself-as-conscripted-actor-she-needed-to-force-out-explanation-d
I'd like to share with you a parable: the parable of Bob the Angel. A girl was walking down a darkly lit city street late at night. A man jumped out from the shadows and attacked her, suddenly she was suffocating and disoriented as hands clasped around her neck and the force of his attack started to push her down. She tried to yell as she struggled to pull his arms from her neck while she crumpled backwards to the ground, 'God... help me!' The next thing she remembers-just as the fear consumed her, and right as she disappeared into the misery and despair of helplessness-was a loud crash and an explosion of glass which rained down upon her and her attacker. The assailant's lifeless body was suspended above her, held from collapsing on her by an unknown force, and then pulled away from hovering over her and dropped onto the pavement beside her. She opened her eyes in the faint shadowy light, to see black matted hair and a long, black beard framing the eyes of a man. The smell of alcohol on his breath would have knocked her out if the adrenaline was not still trilling through her veins. There he stood, God's angel, off-kilter and drunk, with a broken whiskey bottle in his hand. 'You probably shouldn't be walking through here this late at night, ' was all he said as he turned away. 'Wait! What's your name?' she asked, still stunned half sitting up on the ground. All she heard as he walked away was his trailing voice calling, 'Bob's as good as any... ' An angel is a messenger, and sometimes we only want letters sent in white envelopes with beautiful gold print, when sometimes a simple 'no' on the back of a gum wrapper is what we are offered. Every postcard from heaven does not come with a picture of the sunset there, nor should it. If it is an answer we want, an answer we will get. As far as pretty postcards, there are many others willing to send us that. If not harps and gold-tipped wings, what then is the mark of an angel? An answer which pierces your soul, and which inspires a question that invites you to look outside of yourself and up to God.

Michael Brent Jones
id-like-to-share-with-you-parable-parable-bob-angel-a-girl-was-walking-down-darkly-lit-city-street-late-at-night-a-man-jumped-out-from-shadows-attacked-her-suddenly-she-was-suffo
Jenks and I stood there like statues watching him twitch, his eyes rolling up in his head. He clutched at his clothes pulling the wooden pole they hung from down on top of him. Slowly his right hand came scrambling out away from his body to clutch at my left leg. Without thinking I shoved my crucifix at him and he pulled his hand back with a hiss, shielding his face again. As quickly as I could, I dug my tubes of Holy Water out of my coat pocket and emptied them on his head. He shrieked again and clawed at his face. Jenks followed suit, pouring his two vials on Skorzeny's body and legs. Skorzeny started to foam and bubble before our eyes. I was paralyzed. I couldn't quite believe what was happening. Those books hadn't described any of this. I was feeling dizzy and sick. The shrieks turned to groans and a gurgling deep in his throat. He pulled his hands away from his face and it looked like the disintegrating Portrait of Dorian Gray. I looked over to Jenks who had an odd expression on his face. I looked over to Jenks who had on odd expression on his face. He motioned to me and reached for my left hand which, I noticed, was still clutching the airline hag with the stake and hammer in it. I dropped it and he grabbed it off the floor, moving over to the smoking form still squirming in the closet which smelled even more foul than before, and oozing a greenish yellow pus from the crumpled clothing on his scarecrow frame. Jenks looked back at me and handed me the stake and hammer. 'Go ahead. This was your idea. Finish it.' I declined, turning away. Jenks spun me around violently and thrust the stake into my left hand. He pushed me toward what was left of Skorzeny and forced me to my knees. He forced my hand toward Skorzeny, positioning the stake over the man's chest. Then he stuck the hammer in my right hand. 'Do it, you gutless sonofabitch. Finish it... now!' And he stepped away. I looked at him and back at Skorzeny. Then I gave one vicious swing and hit the stake dead center. The thing made a gurgling grunt, like a pig snuffling for food, and started to regurgitate a blackish fluid from its mouth. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and hit the stake three more times. Then I fell back and threw up. When I looked back, Skorzeny's hands, or what was left of them, clutched at the stake trying to pull it out. Suddenly, he emitted a kind of moaning, sucking sound, gagged and more bile-colored liquid flecked with black and red came coiling up in a viscous rope like some evil worm from his mouth. And he stopped moving, his hands still clutching the stake. Then a sort of gaseous mist started to rise from his body and it was so much worse than the original smell that I pushed Jenks aside and ran from the house. I ran all the way to a patrol car where I slumped against the left front wheel as Jenks slowly strolled toward me. He walked past me, ignoring me, and opened his trunk, taking out a couple of small gas cans, and headed back to the house. I wasn't paying much attention until he left the house again and I saw it was aflame.

Jeff Rice
jenks-i-stood-there-like-statues-watching-him-twitch-his-eyes-rolling-up-in-his-head-he-clutched-at-his-clothes-pulling-wooden-pole-they-hung-from-down-on-top-him-slowly-his-righ
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