Life is good, and there's no reason to think it won't be--right up until the moment when everything explodes into a fireball of tiny, unrecognizable fragments, or it all goes skidding sideways, through the guardrail, over the embankment, and down the mountain. This will happen (and probably more than once).
Michael J. Fox
So many women come to me saying, 'I have lost too, and this one, and this one'. So many embryos retreat to flesh: the live cell of the mother. Don't tell me that it will happen for me, when the only sure thing is a miracle: the sperm nuzzling in its nest and the egg that opens, explodes.
Zoe« Brigley (Thompson)
You've always got to have an imagination in the game we're in but it explodes on this. You get to try the costumes on before you start and feel the weight of them, which is great. But then you're opposite some of the greatest actors in the world and away you go. You find your imagination takes over without you really even thinking about it.
The Metallica film was like this incredible life experience where I learned the most through guys that stereotypically you would think couldn't offer much to you. That's what I love about the film: It explodes your stereotype of them - they're not just a bunch of lugheads banging on the guitar.
I tell my kids in the Academy at Newcastle to watch Henry. He plays with such a swagger, not an arrogance, and that is a great quality. He always looks so comfortable. You talk about cars going from 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds, and he is like that. He just explodes. I could sit there for hours and watch him.
THE HUMAN RACE AND THEIR SICK GAMES DEPORTED PEOPLE IN GODDAMNED TRAINS THE HOLY CHURCH AND WHAT THEY PREACH BLOOD AND DEATH IS ALL THEY TEACH A LITTLE CHILD WITH FATHER'S GUN KILLING PEOPLE JUST FOR FUN A SUICIDE BOMBER STARTS TO PRAY HE HITS THE SWITCH IT'S JUDGEMENT DAY FUCKING ANGER CRAWLS UP MY THROAT MY BODY IS BURNING, MY HEAD EXPLODES THE RESURRECTION WILL COME THE RADICAL RESPONSE THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE TIME TO FUCK YOU UP THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE YES, THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE TIME TO FUCK YOU UP THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE THE HUMAN RACE AND THEIR SICK GAMES WAR AND CHAOS, SUFFERING AND PAIN A BUNDGE OF ROCKETS STARTS TO FLY ALL THE HUMANS HAVE DESERVE TO DIE FUCKING ANGER CRAWLS UP MY THROAT MY BODIE IS BURNING, MY HEAD EXPLODES THE RESURRECTION WILL COME THE RADICAL RESPONSE ALRIGHT, THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE TIME TO FUCK YOU UP THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE YES, THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE TIME TO FUCK YOU UP MY RADICAL RESPONSE THIS IS MY RADICAL RESPONSE
You cannot stay the shell in its flight; after it has left the mortar, it goes on to its mark, and there explodes, dealing destruction all around. Just as little can you stay the consequences of a sin after it has been committed. You may repent of it, you may even be forgiven for it, but still it goes on its deadly and desolating way. It has passed entirely beyond your reach; once done, it cannot be undone.
William Mackergo Taylor
Quite frankly, I talk about the fact that I'm a feminist as often as I can, and every time I do, it gets huge reaction, and media reacts, and the Twitterverse explodes and things like that, because here I am saying I'm a feminist. I will keep saying that until there is no more reaction to that when I say it, because that's where we want to get to.
The point of recapitulation in the first movement of the Ninth [Symphony of Beethoven] is one of the most horrifying moments in music, as the carefully prepared cadence is frustrated, damming up energy which finally explodes in the throttling, murderous rage of a rapist incapable of attaining release.
When the immense drugged universe explodes In a cascade of unendurable colour And leaves us gasping naked, This is no more than the ectasy of chaos: Hold fast, with both hands, to that royal love Which alone, as we know certainly, restores Fragmentation into true being. Ecstasy of Chaos
Because we humans are big and clever enough to produce and utilize antibiotics and disinfectants, it is easy to convince ourselves that we have banished bacteria to the fringes of existence. Don't you believe it. Bacteria may not build cities or have interesting social lives, but they will be here when the Sun explodes. This is their planet, and we are on it only because they allow us to be.
The writer trusts nothing she writes-it should be too reckless and alive for that, it should be beautiful and menacing and slightly out of control. . . . Good writing . . . explodes in the reader's face. Whenever the writer writes, it's always three or four or five o'clock in the morning in her head.
I want a lifetime of holy moments. Every day I want to be in dangerous proximity to Jesus. I long for a life that explodes with meaning and is filled with adventure, wonder, risk, and danger. I long for a faith that is gloriously treacherous. I want to be with Jesus, not knowing whether to cry or laugh.
First love is unrequited ultimately because it's so huge.It's such an act of giving and it requires so much back that it can never be given back. It's like an atom bomb. It's like... It's all the energy of who you are and who you want to be and what you love and what you hope to be explodes. It is impossible for a single... human being to offer that back to you in a mutual way.
Life isn't always easy but so long as we have hope that we will find someone to help us through the darkness things will always get better. When we find that person, life suddenly explodes and darkness turns into a riot of colour. We're always looking for someone, what we need to remember is that someone is out there looking for us too.
The baby explodes into an unknown world that is only knowable through some kind of a story "" of course that is how we all live, it's the narrative of our lives, but adoption drops you into the story after it has started. It's like reading a book with the first few pages missing. It's like arriving after curtain up. The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you "" and it can't, and it shouldn't, because something is missing.
When you do hard routes, you have to try hard. They're not easy routes. You have to give everything you have. You have to get totally animalistic. When you're super pumped, I have to yell to bear down. [...] It's like martial arts. When Bruce lee threw a punch, he had to mean it. Haahhh! Like that. When you're doing a hard move, there is this excess energy you have to let out. Air explodes out of you.
When a lion stalks a herd, he sneaks in close, lies down, and surveys them to choose his victim. He takes his time. The deer or buffalo have no idea he's near. He finds his prey and then he explodes from his hiding place and grabs it. Even if another, perfectly serviceable animal ends up within his reach, he isn't going to alter his course. He has chosen, and he would rather go hungry than change his mind.
I recently realized that Television has influenced a lot of English bands. Echo and the Bunnymen, U2, Teardrop Explodes - it's obvious what they've listened to and what they're going for. When I was sixteen I listened to Yardbirds records and thought, "God, this is great." It's gratifying to think that people listened to Television albums and felt the same.
Summer explodes into Portland. In early June the heat was there but not the color--the green were still pale and tentative, the morning had a biting coolness--but by the last week of school everything is Technicolor and splash, outrageous blue skies and purple thunderstorms and ink-black night skies and red flowers as brights as spots of blood.
On either side of a potentially violent conflict, an opportunity exists to exercise compassion and diminish fear based on recognition of each other's humanity. Without such recognition, fear fueled by uninformed assumptions, cultural prejudice, desperation to meet basic human needs, or the panicked uncertainty of the moment explodes into violence.
A conventional 'success' story is one where, with each next, the protagonist has more money, more respect, and more possessions. I'd like to suggest an alternative 'success' story "" one where, with each next, the protagonist is closer to finding that spot where he's no longer held back by his heart, and he explodes with talent, and his character blossoms, and the gift he has to offer the world is apparent.
When my female friends are left By horrid spouses and lovers, I commiserate. I send gifts- Powwow songs and poems- and wonder Why my gorgeous friends cannot find Someone who knows them as I do. Is the whole world dead and blind? I tell my friends, 'I'd marry you Tomorrow.' I think I'm engaged To thirty-six women, my harem: Platonic, bookish, and enraged. I love them! But it would scare them- No, of course, they already know That I can be just one more boy, A toy warrior who explodes Into silence and warpaths with joy.
Of course it's the apparently tranquil periods that deceive us. Though our instruments or our senses or our wits may not be able to see the processes that are leading toward these clusters of events, they're happening. The star, the wheel, the butterfly""all are in a subtle state of unrest, waiting for the moment when some invisible mechanism signals that the time has come. Then the star explodes; the wheel makes poor men rich; the butterfly mates and dies.
In any war story, but especially a true one, it's difficult to separate what happened from what seemed to happen. What seems to happen becomes its own happening and has to be told that way. The angles of vision are skewed. When a booby trap explodes, you close your eyes and duck and float outside yourself. .. The pictures get jumbled, you tend to miss a lot. And then afterward, when you go to tell about it, there is always that surreal seemingness, which makes the story seem untrue, but which in fact represents the hard and exact truth as it seemed.
In any war story, but especially a true one, it's difficult to separate what happened from what seemed to happen. What seems to happen becomes its own happening and has to be told that way. The angles of vision are skewed. When a booby trap explodes, you close your eyes and duck and float outside yourself... The pictures get jumbled, you tend to miss a lot. And then afterward, when you go to tell about it, there is always that surreal seemingness, which makes the story seem untrue, but which in fact represents the hard and exact truth as it seemed.
Once again your mind explodes with a searing pain. A floodgate of memories bursts wide. Yet it is her face that keeps haunting you. Always her face. Who is she? Then things begin to crystallize. You remember your funeral. Begging and pleading for someone to release you from the darkness. You're not dead. You can't be. Then you feel her presence. Warm, caring, soothing. But somewhere deep inside she feels empty now. She has no reason. No meaning. No soul. But your soul lives. While her's is dying.
Anxiously attached Codependents demonstrate the ability to maximize the attention they get from their partner, regardless of whether it is positive or negative (i.e., "I'd rather be screamed at than ignored"). Manipulation is used to keep the inattentive or inconsistent partner involved by alternating dramatic angry demands with needy dependence. When the partner is preoccupied and not paying attention, the anxious Codependent explodes in angry demands and behaviors that cannot be ignored.
Mary Crocker Cook
This is the way of meditation: encountering the present in all its tremendous beauty, just being in the present. Inside, the mind stops. Outside, the world changes totally. It is no more the ordinary world you have known before. In fact, you have not known it at all. Your mind was distorting everything, your mind was creating fantasies. Your eyes were full of fantasies and you were looking though those fantasies. They never allowed you to see that which is. If the mind is gone, even for a moment, suddenly the whole existence explodes upon you.
She puts her hands on either side of my face, and the room falls away. I have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And then, the space between us explodes. My heart keeps missing beats and my hands cannot bring her close enough to me. I taste her and realize I have been starving. I have loved before, but it didn't feel like this. I have kissed before, but it didn't burn me alive. Maybe it lasts a minute, and maybe it's an hour. All I know is that kiss, and how soft her skin is when it brushes against mine, and that even if I did not know it until now, I have been waiting for this person forever.
I Need a Good Book I need a good story. I need a good book. The kind that explodes Off the shelf. I need some good writing, Alive and exciting, To contemplate all by myself. I need a good novel, I need a good read. I probably need Two or three. I need a good tale Of love and betrayal Or perhaps an adventure at sea. I need a good saga. I need a good yarn. A momentous and mightily Or slight one. But with thousands and thousands And thousands of books, I need someone to tell me The right one. -John Lithgow
Most of the time - 99 percent of the time - you just don't know how and why the threads are looped together, and that's okay. Do a good thing and something bad happens. Do a bad thing and something good happens. Do nothing and everything explodes. And very, very rarely - by some miracle of chance and coincidence, butterflies beating their wings just so and all the threads hanging together for a minute - you get the chance to do the right thing.
Worship is a powerful witness to unbelievers-if God's presence is felt, and if the message is understandable. God's presence must be sensed in the service. More people are won to Christ by feeling God's presence than by all our apologetic arguments combined. Few people, if any, are converted to Christ on purely intellectual grounds. It is the sense of God's presence that melts the heart and explodes mental barriers.
Thoughts can create such a barrier that even if you are standing before a beautiful flower, you will not be able to see it. Your eyes are covered with layers of thought. To experience the beauty of the flower you have to be in a state of meditation, not in a state of mentation. You have to be silent, utterly silent, not even a flicker of thought - and the beauty explodes, reaches to you from all directions. You are drowned in the beauty of a sunrise, of a starry night, of beautiful trees.
War is not a computer-generated missile striking a digital map. War is the color of earth as it explodes in our faces, the sound of child pleading, the smell of smoke and fear. Women survivors of war are not the single image portrayed on the television screen, but the glue that holds families and countries together. Perhaps by understanding women, and the other side of war ... we will have more humility in our discussions of wars... perhaps it is time to listen to womens side of history.
In the realm of Ahura, there are two lands, one of light and one of dark. The land of light is where the mountain lay, and near its top is where the Zoroastrians dwell. They are the people of the land, and the chosen Twelve are their most powerful leaders and protectors. It is a beautiful sight, not like anything in mortal existence. The peak stretches up toward a sky of amber and blue. During certain hours, a purple hue explodes along the skyline, stretching out into the distance of one side of the mountain, extending farther than the eye can grasp. This is a constant. Never without light.