Reeling 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
my-head-is-reeling-from-the-devils-you-have-sent
i-am-still-reeling-with-delight-at-soaring-majesty-norfolk-john-betjeman
no-damn-her-still-i-choke-on-her-lies-not-reeling-im-strong-all-that-remains
no-damn-her-still-i-choke-on-her-lies-still-reeling-from-her-last-caress-her-goodbye-all-that-remains
waking-sleeping-i-see-wreckand-hear-cry-from-reeling-deck-john-greenleaf-whittier
i-cannot-explain-nor-must-artist-defend-his-work-elucidate-in-such-way-reeling-audience-can-fathom-brutes-that-they-are-laird-barron
lets-face-it-you-just-cant-hide-your-first-tastell-send-you-reeling-like-firework-to-which-were-tied-be-prepared-to-go-through-your-ceiling-now-xtc
drink-and-dance-and-laugh-and-lie-love-the-reeling-midnight-through-for-tomorrow-we-shall-die-but-alas-we-never-do
drink-dance-laugh-lie-love-reeling-midnight-through-for-tomorrow-we-shall-die-but-alas-we-never-do-dorothy-parker
your-senses-are-reeling-all-time-finally-you-find-something-to-write-next-day-you-go-out-see-something-else-which-totally-contradicts-what-youve-written-every-conclusion-youve-co
ive-never-wanted-more-until-i-met-you-i-gasp-reeling-oh-my-isnt-this-what-i-want-he-wants-more-he-wants-it-too-my-inner-goddess-has-backflipped-off-podium-is-doing-cartwheels-aro
inebriate-air-am-i-and-debauchee-dew-reeling-thro-endless-summer-days-from-inns-molten-blue-emily-dickinson
writing-makes-me-hard-like-fisherman-brown-from-heat-tossing-out-reeling-in-is-job-for-visionaries-those-with-calloused-hands-chila-woychik
im-in-comic-book-now-that-was-cool-thats-something-that-im-still-sorta-reeling-about-cause-i-read-comics-as-kid-someone-drew-me-actually-did-rutina-wesley
reeling-writhing-course-to-begin-with-mock-turtle-replied-different-branches-arithmeticambition-distraction-uglification-derision-lewis-carroll
when-wego-back-in-to-past-rake-up-all-troubles-weve-had-we-end-up-reeling-straggering-through-life-stability-peace-mind-come-by-living-in-pam-w-vredevelt
and-while-that-sends-you-reeling-from-decimated-dreams-your-misery-hate-will-kill-us-all-so-paint-it-black-take-it-back-lets-shout-out-loud-clear-my-chemical-romance
i-wanted-to-portray-dark-subject-matter-deceptively-complex-story-in-brightest-colours-simplest-lines-possible-to-leave-readers-reeling-mark-millar
that-mortal-is-fool-who-prospering-thinks-his-life-has-any-strong-foundation-since-our-fortunes-course-action-is-reeling-way-madman-takes-no-one-person-is-ever-happy-all-time-eur
i-am-going-to-make-jerusalem-cup-that-sends-all-surrounding-peoples-reeling-judah-will-be-besieged-as-well-as-jerusalem-zechariah-122
all-reading-should-be-pleasurable-i-dont-like-people-who-keep-reeling-out-books-are-important-line-first-foremost-reading-is-about-entertainment-same-as-movies-video-games-music
i-pull-back-gasping-for-breath-reeling-his-breath-is-ragged-i-place-my-hands-on-his-cheeks-to-steady-him-is-this-okay-i-whisper-are-you-okay-his-stephanie-perkins
i-pull-back-gasping-for-breath-reeling-his-breath-is-ragged-i-place-my-hands-on-his-cheeks-to-steady-him-is-this-okay-i-whisper-are-you-okay-his-reply-is-anguished-honest-i-love-
in-days-following-911-when-we-were-reeling-disoriented-there-was-kind-solace-to-be-found-in-old-recordings-even-pseudo-folk-singers-like-james-taylor-seemed-to-be-safeguarding-so
new-clothes-left-sylvia-reeling-with-happiness-for-sylvia-shopping-list-was-poem-she-always-shopped-alone-it-suited-her-deliberate-nature-artistic-joy-with-which-she-approached-a
the-work-family-divide-is-biggest-issue-for-american-women-but-in-some-ways-its-amazing-how-adjusted-society-has-become-to-it-in-1970s-as-women-began-to-take-more-jobs-society-wa
If you wear black, then kindly, irritating strangers will touch your arm consolingly and inform you that the world keeps on turning. They're right. It does. However much you beg it to stop. It turns and lets grenadine spill over the horizon, sends hard bars of gold through my window and I wake up and feel happy for three seconds and then I remember. It turns and tips people out of their beds and into their cars, their offices, an avalanche of tiny men and women tumbling through life... All trying not to think about what's waiting at the bottom. Sometimes it turns and sends us reeling into each other's arms. We cling tight, excited and laughing, strangers thrown together on a moving funhouse floor. Intoxicated by the motion we forget all the risks. And then the world turns... And somebody falls off... And oh God it's such a long way down. Numb with shock, we can only stand and watch as they fall away from us, gradually getting smaller... Receding in our memories until they're no longer visible. We gather in cemeteries, tense and silent as if for listening for the impact; the splash of a pebble dropped into a dark well, trying to measure its depth. Trying to measure how far we have to fall. No impact comes; no splash. The moment passes. The world turns and we turn away, getting on with our lives... Wrapping ourselves in comforting banalities to keep us warm against the cold. "Time's a great healer." "At least it was quick." "The world keeps turning." Oh Alec- Alec's dead.

Alan Moore
if-you-wear-black-then-kindly-irritating-strangers-will-touch-your-arm-consolingly-inform-you-that-world-keeps-on-turning-theyre-right-it-does-however-much-you-beg-it-to-stop-it-
THE LILIES This morning it was, on the pavement, When that smell hit me again And set the houses reeling. People passed like rain: (The way rain moves and advances over the hills) And it was hot, hot and dank, The smell like animals, strong, but sweet too. What was it? Something I had forgotten. I tried to remember, standing there, Sniffing the air on the pavement. Somehow I thought of flowers. Flowers! That bad smell! I looked: down lanes, past houses- There, behind a hoarding, A rubbish-heap, soft and wet and rotten. Then I remembered: After the rain, on the farm, The vlei that was dry and paler than a stone Suddenly turned wet and green and warm. The green was a clash of music. Dry Africa became a swamp And swamp-birds with long beaks Went humming and flashing over the reeds And cicadas shrilling like a train. I took off my clothes and waded into the water. Under my feet first grass, then mud, Then all squelch and water to my waist. A faint iridescence of decay, The heat swimming over the creeks Where the lilies grew that I wanted: Great lilies, white, with pink streaks That stood to their necks in the water. Armfuls I gathered, working there all day. With the green scum closing round my waist, The little frogs about my legs, And jelly-trails of frog-spawn round the stems. Once I saw a snake, drowsing on a stone, Letting his coils trail into the water. I expect he was glad of rain too After nine moinths of being dry as bark. I don't know why I picked those lilies, Piling them on the grass in heaps, For after an hour they blackened, stank. When I left at dark, Red and sore and stupid from the heat, Happy as if I'd built a town, All over the grass were rank Soft, decaying heaps of lilies And the flies over them like black flies on meat...

Doris Lessing
the-lilies-this-morning-it-was-on-pavement-when-that-smell-hit-me-again-and-set-houses-reeling-people-passed-like-rain-the-way-rain-moves-advances-over-hills-and-it-was-hot-hot-d
Xander Stryker." A thick, rich voice filled the hall. The speaker stopped at the altar, standing in a blue robe. His thick brown hair was slicked back and tied in a small ponytail in the back and his solid blue eyes-matching the shade of his robe-shifted from one to the other. Xander blinked several times, clearing the grogginess from his mind, and began to sit up, nodding his respects at the newcomer. "My name is Ronen, " the newcomer said, bowing his head as he took a step towards him, "and it will be my pleasure to guide you through the change." he stopped for a moment, smiling warmly, before carefully lifting Xander's left arm. Before continuing, he locked his gaze on Xander's, "You are sure that this is what you want?" Xander nodded. There was a sharp sting then as Ronen bit into his wrist and Xander flinched before a warm rush made the pain subside and the room began to spin. Thrown off kilter, Xander felt himself start to fall as the poison seeped into the veins of his arm and, after a long, lingering moment, crawled past his shoulder and into his chest-into his heart-where it suddenly exploded into a full-body inferno. He was burning to death! When he was certain that he was on fire there was a sudden cool rush; a wave of ice that ran through the length of his body and seeped into his core until he found his eyelids and pried them open. The image of Depok and Ronen came into focus and he was vaguely aware of Depok's left hand on his shoulder as the pure-blood pulled his fangs away from his wrist. Mind still reeling, Xander noticed, not without a bit of shock, that he was still lying on top of the altar. A moment later, his eyes rolled back in his skull and the lights from the candles melted into a solid glow that swallowed him and faded to black. As Death swooped down and enveloped him, he heard Depok's voice in the distance: "Welcome home, Xander.

Nathan Squiers
xander-stryker-a-thick-rich-voice-filled-hall-the-speaker-stopped-at-altar-standing-in-blue-robe-his-thick-brown-hair-was-slicked-back-tied-in-small-ponytail-in-back-his-solid-bl
a serious contender for my book of year. I can't believe I only discovered Chris Carter a year ago and I now consider him to be one of my favourite crime authors of all time. For that reason this is a difficult review to write because I really want to show just how fantastic this book is. It's a huge departure from what we are used to from Chris, this book is very different from the books that came before. That said it could not have been more successful in my opinion. After five books of Hunter trying to capture a serial killer it makes sense to shake things up a bit and Chris has done that in best possible way. By allowing us to get inside the head of one of the most evil characters I've ever read about. It is also the first book based on real facts and events from Chris's criminal psychology days and that makes it all the more shocking and fascinating. Chris Carter's imagination knows no bounds and I love it. The scenes, the characters, whatever he comes up with is both original and mind blowing and that has never been more so than with this book. I feel like I can't even mention the plot even just a little bit. This is a book that should be read in the same way that I read it: with my heart in my mouth, my eyes unblinking and in a state of complete obliviousness to the world around me while I was well and truly hooked on this book. This is addictive reading at its absolute best and I was devastated when I turned the very last page. Robert Hunter, after the events of the last few books is looking forward to a much needed break in Hawaii. Before he can escape however his Captain calls him to her office. Arriving, Hunter recognises someone - one of the most senior members of the FBI who needs his help. They have in custody one of the strangest individuals they have ever come across, a man who is more machine than human and who for days has uttered not a single word. Until one morning he utters seven: 'I will only speak to Robert Hunter'. The man is Hunter's roommate and best friend from college, Lucien Folter, and found in the boot of his car are two severed and mutilated heads. Lucien cries innocence and Hunter, a man incredibly difficult to read or surprise is played just as much as the reader is by Lucien. There are a million and one things I want to say but I just can't. You really have to discover how this story unfolds for yourself. In this book we learn so much more about Hunter and get inside his head even further than we have before. There's a chapter that almost brought me to tears such is the talent of Chris to connect the reader with Hunter. This is a character like no other and he is now one of my favourite detectives of all time. We go back in time and learn more about Hunter when he was younger, and also when he was in college with Lucien. Lucien is evil. The scenes depicted in this book are some of the most graphic I've ever read and you know what, I loved it. After five books of some of the scariest and goriest scenes I've ever read I wondered whether Chris could come up with something even worse (in a good way), but trust me, he does. This book is horrifying, terrifying and near impossible to put down until you reach its conclusion. I spent my days like a zombie and my nights practically giving myself paper cuts turning the pages. If when reading this book you think you have an idea of where it will go, prepare to be wrong. I've learnt never to underestimate Chris, keeping readers on their toes he takes them on an absolute rollercoaster of a ride with the twistiest of turns and the biggest of drops you will finish this book reeling. I am on a serious book hangover, what book can I read next that can even compare to this? I have no idea but if you are planning on reading An Evil Mind I cannot reccommend it enough. Not only is this probably my book of the year it is probably the best crime fiction book I have ever read. An exaggeration you might say but my opinion is my own and this real

Ayaz mallah
serious-contender-for-my-book-year-i-cant-believe-i-only-discovered-chris-carter-year-ago-i-now-consider-him-to-be-one-my-favourite-crime-authors-all-time-for-that-reason-this-is
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