Huddled 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
they-brayed-among-bushes-huddled-in-undergrowth-job-307
huddled-in-dirt-the-reasoning-engine-lies-who-was-so-proud-so-witty-so-wise
on-reflection-crake-said-to-frey-as-they-huddled-behind-upturned-table-this-wasnt-one-your-better-plans-chris-wooding
give-me-your-tired-your-poor-your-huddled-masses-yearning-to-breathe-free
the-things-that-your-eyes-see-plainly-cant-forget-are-worse-than-huddled-black-figures-left-to-imagination-kendare-blake
that-feeling-when-youre-cold-youd-give-anything-to-be-warm-ive-had-it-before-literally-huddled-around-candle-flame-on-ice-sheet-bear-grylls
he-was-little-boy-she-was-grown-up-she-huddled-by-fire-not-daring-to-move-helpless-guilty-big-woman-james-m-barrie
the-statue-liberty-is-no-longer-saying-give-me-your-poor-your-tired-your-huddled-masses-shes-got-baseball-bat-yelling-you-want-piece-me-robin-williams
i-refuse-to-believe-that-give-me-your-tired-your-poor-your-huddled-masses-yearning-to-breathe-free-is-now-empty-entreaty-but-if-it-is-shame-on-us
the-statue-liberty-is-no-longer-saying-give-me-your-poor-your-tired-your-huddled-masses-shes-got-baseball-bat-yelling-you-want-piece-me
have-we-not-huddled-in-bunkers-while-some-premonition-tomorrow-hung-in-air-comrade-started-singing-oh-it-felt-melancholy-and-it-was-kitsch-robert-musil
oh-lord-i-was-beginning-to-think-like-neith-soon-id-be-huddled-in-underground-bunker-eating-army-rations-cackling-as-i-sewed-together-pockets-all-rick-riordan
give-me-your-tired-your-huddled-masses-hungry-souls-needing-to-breathe-free-chasing-new-world-at-end-rainbow-yes-you-can-have-it-all-just-talk-to-titan-force
i-have-no-use-for-those-regardless-their-political-party-who-hold-some-foolish-dream-spinning-clock-back-to-days-when-unorganized-labor-was-dwight-d-eisenhower
as-little-flowers-which-chill-night-has-bent-huddled-when-white-sun-strikes-grow-straight-open-fully-on-their-stems-did-i-too-with-my-exhausted-dante-alighieri
not-living-thing-was-to-be-seen-cottages-that-sat-huddled-close-to-ground-remained-fast-shut-smoke-from-chimneys-alone-still-gave-sign-life
i-dont-see-teenagers-anymore-i-see-i-see-youths-slumped-s-shapes-in-their-hoodies-all-huddled-round-bin-burning-grannies-all-texting-eachother-dylan-moran
the-american-dream-coupled-with-government-subsidies-utilities-cheap-consumer-goods-courtesy-slave-labour-somewhere-else-has-kept-poor-huddled-elizabeth-wurtzel
give-me-your-hungry-your-tired-your-poor-thats-what-statue-bigotry-says-your-poor-huddled-masses-lets-just-club-them-to-death-get-it-over-with-lou-reed
i-think-flower-in-bud-huddled-compressed-dark-yet-somehow-it-feels-night-knows-moon-from-sun-it-waitswaits-jerry-spinelli
the-old-days-lost-days-in-halfclosed-eyes-memory-in-fact-they-never-marched-across-calendar-they-huddled-round-burning-log-leaned-on-certain-table-listened-to-those-certain-songs
land-opportunity-land-for-huddled-masses-where-would-opportunity-have-been-without-genocide-those-old-guard-bristling-indian-tribes
when-my-book-was-first-sent-out-to-publishers-my-agent-told-me-to-buy-lot-ice-cream-wait-so-i-bought-gigantic-amount-ice-cream-huddled-by-freezer-eating-it-shaking-hoping-someone
(...)Through the ship's telescopes, he had watched the death of the solar system. With his own eyes, he had seen the volcanoes of Mars erupt for the first time in a billion years; Venus briefly naked as her atmosphere was blasted into space before she herself was consumed; the gas giants exploding into incandescent fireballs. But these were empty, meaningless spectacles compared with the tragedy of Earth. That, too, he had watched through the lenses of cameras that had survived a few minutes longer than the devoted men who had sacrificed the last moments of their lives to set them up. He had seen... the Great Pyramid, glowing dully red before it slumped into a puddle of molten stone... the floor of the Atlantic, baked rock-hard in seconds, before it was submerged again, by the lava gushing from the volcanoes of the Mid-ocean Rift... the Moon rising above the flaming forests of Brazil and now itself shining almost as brilliantly as had the Sun, on its last setting, only minutes before... the continent of Antarctica emerging briefly after its long burial, as the kilometres of ancient ice were burned away... the mighty central span of the Gibraltar Bridge, melting even as it slumped downward through the burning air... In that last century the Earth was haunted with ghosts - not of the dead, but of those who now could never be born. For five hundred years the birthrate had been held at a level that would reduce the human population to a few millions when the end finally came. Whole cities - even countries - had been deserted as mankind huddled together for History's closing act.

Arthur C. Clarke
through-ships-telescopes-he-had-watched-death-solar-system-with-his-own-eyes-he-had-seen-volcanoes-mars-erupt-for-first-time-in-billion-years-venus-briefly-naked-as-her-atmospher
Until one morning, one of the coldest mornings of the year, when I came in with the book cart and found Jean Hollis Clark, a fellow librarian, standing dead still in the middle of the staff room. "I heard a noise from the drop box, " Jean said. "What kind of noise?" "I think it's an animal." "A what?" "An animal, " Jean said. "I think there's an animal in the drop box." That was when I heard it, a low rumble from under the metal cover. It didn't sound like an animal. It sounded like an old man clearing his throat. Gurr-gug-gug. Gurr-gug-gug. But the opening at the top of the chute was only a few inches wide, so that would be quite a squeeze for an old man. It had to be an animal. But what kind? I got down on my knees, reached over the lid, and hoped for a chipmunk. What I got instead was a blast of freezing air. The night before, the temperature had reached minus fifteen degrees, and that didn't take into account the wind, which cut under your coat and squeezed your bones. And on that night, of all nights, someone had jammed a book into return slot, wedging it open. It was as cold in the box as it was outside, maybe colder, since the box was lined with metal. It was the kind of cold that made it almost painful to breathe. I was still catching my breath, in fact, when I saw the kitten huddled in the front left corner of the box. It was tucked up in a little space underneath a book, so all I could see at first was its head. It looked grey in the shadows, almost like a little rock, and I could tell its fur was dirty and tangled. Carefully, I lifted the book. The kitten looked up at me, slowly and sadly, and for a second I looked straight into its huge golden eyes. The it lowered its head and sank back down into its hole. At that moment, I lost every bone in my body and just melted.

Vicki Myron
until-one-morning-one-coldest-mornings-year-when-i-came-in-with-book-cart-found-jean-hollis-clark-fellow-librarian-standing-dead-still-in-middle-staff-room-i-heard-noise-from-dro
March 1898 What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Barcelona or Marseille. The streets were noisome, with their freshly-heaped piles of ordure outside the doors, in the blue shadows of their high roofs. They all led down towards the sea. The gold-spangled sea, seeming as if it had been polished by the sun, could be seen at the end of each thoroughfare, bristling with yard-arms and luminous masts. The implacable blue of the sky shone brilliantly overhead as I wandered through the long, cool and sombre corridors in the emptiness of a deserted district: a quarter which might almost have been dead, abruptly abandoned by seamen and foreigners. I was alone, subjected to the stares of prostitutes seated at their windows or in the doorways, whose eyes seemed to ransack my very soul. They did not speak to me. Leaning on the sides of tall bay-windows or huddled in doorways, they were silent. Their breasts and arms were bare, bizarrely made up in pink, their eyebrows were darkened, they wore their hair in corkscrew-curls, decorated with paper flowers and metal birds. And they were all exactly alike! They might have been huge marionettes, or tall mannequin dolls left behind in panic - for I divined that some plague, some frightful epidemic brought from the Orient by sailors, had swept through the town and emptied it of its inhabitants. I was alone with these simulacra of love, abandoned by the men on the doorsteps of the brothels. I had already been wandering for hours without being able to find a way out of that miserable quarter, obsessed by the fixed and varnished eyes of all those automata, when I was seized by the sudden thought that all these girls were dead, plague-stricken and putrefied by cholera where they stood, in the solitude, beneath their carmine plaster masks... and my entrails were liquefied by cold. In spite of that harrowing chill, I was drawn closer to a motionless girl. I saw that she was indeed wearing a mask... and the girl in the next doorway was also masked... and all of them were horribly alike under their identical crude colouring... I was alone with the masks, with the masked corpses, worse than the masks... when, all of a sudden, I perceived that beneath the false faces of plaster and cardboard, the eyes of these dead women were alive. Their vitreous eyes were looking at me... I woke up with a cry, for in that moment I had recognised all the women. They all had the eyes of Kranile and Willie, of Willie the mime and Kranile the dancer. Every one of the dead women had Kranile's left eye and Willie's right eye... so that every one of them appeared to be squinting. Am I to be haunted by masks now?

Jean Lorrain
march-1898-what-strange-dream-i-had-last-night-i-wandered-in-warm-streets-port-in-low-quarter-some-barcelona-marseille-the-streets-were-noisome-with-their-freshlyheaped-piles-ord
?Earn cash when you save a quote by clicking
EARNED Load...
LEVEL : Load...