Rusted 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
her-halo-was-never-gold-it-couldnt-have-rusted-completely-ellen-hopkins
while-in-england-write-get-wrought-rotten-rusted-aporva-kala
most-women-have-not-even-been-able-to-touch-this-anger-except-to-drive-it-inward-like-rusted-nail-adrienne-rich
they-were-not-family-anymore-they-were-strangers-tied-together-by-chains-but-they-had-rusted-there-was-no-hope-for-them-to-reconnect-something-had-disappeared-perhaps-it-was-thei
during-my-17-years-of-employment-in-this-building-nothing-has-offended-me-and-my-staff-more-than-the-erection-of-this-huge-rusted-metal-barrier
the-door-opens-with-rusted-jingle-animatronic-santa-insults-my-moral-virtue-three-times-ho-ho-ho-kiersten-white
city-gates-rusted-iron-cant-contain-light-inside-so-i-stopped-this-devil-at-county-line-and-went-no-furthe-oar
if-you-hurt-muse-i-will-hunt-you-down-use-every-rusted-weapon-i-own-cut-off-your-precious-parts-feed-them-to-hellhounds-ryder-pippa-dacosta
i-cant-write-on-road-i-have-to-be-home-i-have-to-be-around-all-those-rusted-tractors-dilapidated-fences-things-like-that-because-it-just-grounds-me-john-fullbright
one-day-tens-millions-years-from-now-someone-will-find-me-rusted-into-mud-world-they-have-never-seen-when-they-crumble-me-between-their-fingers-jeanette-winterson
i-dreamed-kind-jesus-fouled-biggun-gears-caused-permanent-stoppage-in-all-bolts-buckled-with-smile-mausers-colts-rusted-every-bayonet-with-his-tears-wilfred-owen
my-fingers-are-blistered-they-smell-like-lighter-fluid-like-burnt-tin-foil-rusted-silverware-quick-question-is-it-still-considered-heroin-chic-if-im-actually-using-heroin-no-what
hes-like-old-clock-wont-tell-time-but-wont-stop-neither-with-hands-bend-out-shape-face-bare-numbers-alarm-rusted-silent-old-worthless-clock-that-keeps-ticking-cuckooing-without-m
her-husband-had-been-nails-bolts-rope-that-held-her-her-home-together-she-stood-imagined-planks-falling-off-her-arms-tearing-free-as-those-nails-rusted-rope-frayed-parted-deep-in
You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If tomorrow they tell you you are to make no more water-pipes and saucepans but are to make steel helmets and machine-guns, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Woman at the counter and woman in the office. If tomorrow they tell you you are to fill shells and assemble telescopic sights for snipers' rifles, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Research worker in the laboratory. If tomorrow they tell you you are to invent a new death for the old life, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Priest in the pulpit. If tomorrow they tell you you are to bless murder and declare war holy, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Pilot in your aeroplane. If tomorrow they tell you you are to carry bombs over the cities, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Man of the village and man of the town. If tomorrow they come and give you your call-up papers, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, mother in Vancouver and in London, you on the Hwangho and on the Mississippi, you in Naples and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo - mothers in all parts of the earth, mothers of the world, if tomorrow they tell you you are to bear new soldiers for new battles, then there's only one thing to do: Say NO! For if you do not say NO - if YOU do not say no - mothers, then: then! In the bustling hazy harbour towns the big ships will fall silent as corpses against the dead deserted quay walls, their once shimmering bodies overgrown with seaweed and barnacles, smelling of graveyards and rotten fish. The trams will lie like senseless glass-eyed cages beside the twisted steel skeleton of wires and track. The sunny juicy vine will rot on decaying hillsides, rice will dry in the withered earth, potatoes will freeze in the unploughed land and cows will stick their death-still legs into the air like overturned chairs. In the fields beside rusted ploughs the corn will be flattened like a beaten army. Then the last human creature, with mangled entrails and infected lungs, will wander around, unanswered and lonely, under the poisonous glowing sun, among the immense mass graves and devastated cities. The last human creature, withered, mad, cursing, accusing - and the terrible accusation: WHY? will die unheard on the plains, drift through the ruins, seep into the rubble of churches, fall into pools of blood, unheard, unanswered, the last animal scream of the last human animal - All this will happen tomorrow, tomorrow, perhaps, perhaps even tonight, perhaps tonight, if - if - You do not say NO.

Wolfgang Borchert
you-man-at-machine-man-in-workshop-if-tomorrow-they-tell-you-you-are-to-make-no-more-waterpipes-saucepans-but-are-to-make-steel-helmets-machineguns-then-theres-only-one-thing-to-
What are the dead, anyway, but waves and energy? Light shining from a dead star? That, by the way, is a phrase of Julian's. I remember it from a lecture of his on the Iliad, when Patroklos appears to Achilles in a dream. There is a very moving passage where Achilles overjoyed at the sight of the apparition - tries to throw his arms around the ghost of his old friend, and it vanishes. The dead appear to us in dreams, said Julian, because that's the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star... Which reminds me, by the way, of a dream I had a couple of weeks ago. I found myself in a strange deserted city - an old city, like London - underpopulated by war or disease. It was night; the streets were dark, bombed-out, abandoned. For a long time, I wandered aimlessly - past ruined parks, blasted statuary, vacant lots overgrown with weeds and collapsed apartment houses with rusted girders poking out of their sides like ribs. But here and there, interspersed among the desolate shells of the heavy old public buildings, I began to see new buildings, too, which were connected by futuristic walkways lit from beneath. Long, cool perspectives of modern architecture, rising phosphorescent and eerie from the rubble. I went inside one of these new buildings. It was like a laboratory, maybe, or a museum. My footsteps echoed on the tile floors.There was a cluster of men, all smoking pipes, gathered around an exhibit in a glass case that gleamed in the dim light and lit their faces ghoulishly from below. I drew nearer. In the case was a machine revolving slowly on a turntable, a machine with metal parts that slid in and out and collapsed in upon themselves to form new images. An Inca temple... click click click... the Pyramids... the Parthenon. History passing beneath my very eyes, changing every moment. 'I thought I'd find you here, ' said a voice at my elbow. It was Henry. His gaze was steady and impassive in the dim light. Above his ear, beneath the wire stem of his spectacles, I could just make out the powder burn and the dark hole in his right temple. I was glad to see him, though not exactly surprised. 'You know, ' I said to him, 'everybody is saying that you're dead.' He stared down at the machine. The Colosseum... click click click... the Pantheon. 'I'm not dead, ' he said. 'I'm only having a bit of trouble with my passport.' 'What?' He cleared his throat. 'My movements are restricted, ' he said. 'I no longer have the ability to travel as freely as I would like.' Hagia Sophia. St. Mark's, in Venice. 'What is this place?' I asked him. 'That information is classified, I'm afraid.' 1 looked around curiously. It seemed that I was the only visitor. 'Is it open to the public?' I said. 'Not generally, no.' I looked at him. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to say; but somehow I knew there wasn't time and even if there was, that it was all, somehow, beside the point. 'Are you happy here?' I said at last. He considered this for a moment. 'Not particularly, ' he said. 'But you're not very happy where you are, either.' St. Basil's, in Moscow. Chartres. Salisbury and Amiens. He glanced at his watch. 'I hope you'll excuse me, ' he said, 'but I'm late for an appointment.' He turned from me and walked away. I watched his back receding down the long, gleaming hall.

Donna Tartt
what-are-dead-anyway-but-waves-energy-light-shining-from-dead-star-that-by-way-is-phrase-julians-i-remember-it-from-lecture-his-on-iliad-when-patroklos-appears-to-achilles-in-dre
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