Shredded 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
the-glances-over-cocktails-that-seem-to-be-sweet-dont-seem-quite-amorous-over-shredded-wheat-frank-muir
a-neighbour-put-his-budgerigar-in-mincing-machine-invented-shredded-tweet-chic-murray
he-dreamed-he-was-eating-shredded-wheat-woke-up-to-find-mattress-half-gone-fred-allen
my-mind-aches-with-thousand-stories-all-variations-with-shredded-threads-truth-truth-devour
my-heart-is-ripped-open-shredded-leaking-blood-i-cant-let-him-leave-like-this-weve-been-through-to-much-to-turn-into-strangers-marie-lu
look-at-history-peace-accords-in-africa-they-have-terrible-record-they-are-shredded-even-before-ink-on-them-is-dry
ive-said-ill-stand-for-full-second-term-but-i-think-after-that-it-will-be-time-for-new-leadership-terms-are-like-shredded-wheat-two-are-wonderful-but-three-might-just-be-too-many
i-love-that-its-risky-strange-comedy-and-its-one-those-movies-that-hasnt-been-shredded-by-studio-system-watered-down-val-kilmer
i-feel-like-shredded-paper-thrown-to-wind-each-poet-took-piece-me-wrote-word-phrase-luis-alexandre-ribeiro-branco
he-also-keeps-his-silence-when-bible-passages-become-shredded-to-justify-unwinding-kids-start-to-see-face-god-in-fragments-neal-shusterman
there-have-been-times-in-my-life-when-i-felt-compelled-to-write-things-down-as-matter-therapy-but-whatever-i-kept-about-those-days-i-shredded-it-was-too-personal
im-complicated-sentimental-lovable-honest-loyal-decent-generous-likable-and-lonely-my-personality-is-not-split-its-shredded
my-heart-always-strong-in-past-was-like-fishnet-stockings-that-clung-to-my-legstorn-shredded-full-gaping-holes-ej-stevens
for-people-may-not-know-what-they-think-about-politics-in-balkans-vexed-question-men-women-but-everyone-has-definite-opinion-about-flavour-louis-simpson
my-character-on-orange-is-new-black-is-not-one-that-requires-being-absolutely-shredded-with-5-body-fat-but-i-wouldnt-be-opposed-to-doing-that-for-role-one-day
our-sunsets-have-been-reduced-to-wavelengths-frequencies-the-complexities-universe-have-been-shredded-into-mathematical-equations-even-our-selfworth-as-human-beings-has-been-dest
transferring-my-anger-pain-onto-paper-turns-it-into-something-tangible-something-that-can-be-shredded-burned-at-least-sealed-shut-in-box-call-me-tuesday-leigh-byrne
the-danger-to-power-is-obsession-power-junkies-you-need-strong-mind-humor-to-balance-yourself-if-you-dont-you-will-get-shredded-frederick-lenz
its-only-way-to-stay-afloat-with-sharks-at-bay-avoid-being-casualty-circumstances-and-second-chances-are-shredded-day-by-day-four-year-strong
i-love-feeling-shredded-wheat-i-love-healthy-bird-food-with-funtoeat-feel-then-you-spray-them-with-sugar-im-there-penn-jillette
you-will-become-who-you-are-after-you-have-been-lost-recovered-time-time-again-you-will-turn-up-without-pieces-that-needed-to-be-shredded-with-new-discoveries-that-will-give-you-
but-how-game-plan-came-to-be-what-finished-plan-looked-like-i-had-no-idea-id-heard-that-all-copies-were-shredded-as-soon-as-game-was-over-nicholas-dawidoff
the-south-threewheeled-piggly-wiggly-shopping-carts-greasecaked-engine-blocks-baby-strollers-with-shredded-black-hoods-soviet-rocket-parts-human-skulls-on-spikes-orangeeyed-rottw
shredded-feelings-are-fuel-that-feed-machinery-melodrama-and-good-melodrama-just-has-honest-feelings-is-honest-about-way-people-interact-guy-maddin
thomas-had-no-concept-time-as-he-went-through-changing-it-started-much-like-his-first-memory-boxdark-cold-but-this-time-he-had-no-sensation-anything-touching-his-feet-body-he-flo
Hold on to me!' Tedros yelled, hacking briars with his training sword.Dazed, Agatha clung to his chest as he withstood thorn lashes with moans of pain. Soon he had the upper hand and pulled Agatha from the Woods towards the spiked gates, which glowed in recognition and pulled apart, cleaving a narrow path for the two Evers. As the gates speared shut behind them, Agatha looked up at limping Tedros, crisscrossed with bloody scratches, blue shirt shredded away. 'Had a feeling Sophie was getting in through the Woods, ' he panted, hauling her up into slashed arms before she could protest. 'So Professor Dovey gave me permission to take some fairies and stakeout the outer gates. Should have known you'd be here trying to catch her yourself.' Agatha gaped at him dumbly. 'Stupid idea for a princess to take on witches alone, ' Tedros said, dripping sweat on her pink dress. 'Where is she?' Agatha croaked. 'Is she safe?' 'Not a good idea for princesses to worry about witches either, ' Tedros said, hands gripping her waist. Her stomach exploded with butterflies. 'Put me down, ' she sputtered- 'More bad ideas from the princess.' 'Put me down!'Tedros obeyed and Agatha pulled away. 'I'm not a princess!' she snapped, fixing her collar. 'If you say so, ' the prince said, eyes drifting downward.Agatha followed them to her gashed legs, waterfalls of brilliant blood. She saw blood blurring- Tedros smiled. 'One... two... three... 'She fainted in his arms. 'Definitely a princess, ' he said.

Soman Chainani
hold-on-to-me-tedros-yelled-hacking-briars-with-his-training-sworddazed-agatha-clung-to-his-chest-as-he-withstood-thorn-lashes-with-moans-pain-soon-he-had-upper-hand-pulled-agath
New skin, a new land! And a land of liberty, if that is possible! I chose the geology of a land that was new to me, and that was young, virgin, and without drama, that of America. I traveled in America, but instead of romantically and directly rubbing the snakeskin of my body against the asperities of its terrain, I preferred to peel protected within the armor of the gleaming black crustacean of a Cadillac which I gave Gala as a present. Nevertheless all the men who admire and the women who are in love with my old skin will easily be able to find its remnants in shredded pieces of various sizes scattered to the winds along the roads from New York via Pittsburgh to California. I have peeled with every wind; pieces of my skin have remained caught here and there along my way, scattered through that "promised land" which is America; certain pieces of this skin have remained hanging in the spiny vegetation of the Arizona desert, along the trails where I galloped on horseback, where I got rid of all my former Aristotelian "planetary notions." Other pieces of my skin have remained spread out like tablecloths without food on the summits of the rocky masses by which one reaches the Salt Lake, in which the hard passion of the Mormons saluted in me the European phantom of Apollinaire. Still other pieces have remained suspended along the "antediluvian" bridge of San Francisco, where I saw in passing the ten thousand most beautiful virgins in America, completely naked, standing in line on each side of me as I passed, like two rows of organ-pipes of angelic flesh with cowrie-shell sea vulvas.

Salvador Dale­
new-skin-new-land-and-land-liberty-if-that-is-possible-i-chose-geology-land-that-was-new-to-me-that-was-young-virgin-without-drama-that-america-i-traveled-in-america-but-instead-
Ready yourselves!' Mullone heard himself say, which was strange, he thought, for he knew his men were prepared. A great cry came from beyond the walls that were punctuated by musket blasts and Mullone readied himself for the guns to leap into action. Mullone felt a tremor. The ground shook and then the first rebels poured through the gates like an oncoming tide. Mullone saw the leading man; both hands gripping a green banner, face contorted with zeal. The flag had a white cross in the centre of the green field and the initials JF below it. John Fitzstephen. Then, there were more men behind him, tens, then scores. And then time seemed to slow. The guns erupted barely twenty feet from them. Later on, Mullone would remember the great streaks of flame leap from the muzzles to lick the air and all of the charging rebels were shredded and torn apart in one terrible instant. Balls ricocheted on stone and great chunks were gouged out by the bullets. Blood sprayed on the walls as far back as the arched gateway, limbs were shorn off, and Mullone watched in horror as a bloodied head tumbled down the sloped street towards the barricade. 'Jesus sweet suffering Christ!' Cahill gawped at the carnage as the echo of the big guns resonated like a giant's beating heart. Trooper O'Shea bent to one side and vomited at the sight of the twitching, bleeding and unrecognisable lumps that had once been men. A man staggered with both arms missing. Another crawled back to the gate with a shattered leg spurting blood. The stench of burnt flesh and the iron tang of blood hung ripe and nauseating in the oppressive air. One of the low wooden cabins by the wall was on fire. A blast of musketry outside the walls rattled against the stonework and a redcoat toppled backwards onto the cabin's roof as the flames fanned over the wood. 'Here they come again! Ready your firelocks! Do not waste a shot!' Johnson shouted in a steady voice as the gateway became thick with more rebels. He took a deep breath. 'God forgive us, ' Corporal Brennan said. 'Liberty or death!' A rebel, armed with a blood-stained pitchfork, shouted over-and-over.

David Cook
ready-yourselves-mullone-heard-himself-say-which-was-strange-he-thought-for-he-knew-his-men-were-prepared-a-great-cry-came-from-beyond-walls-that-were-punctuated-by-musket-blasts
Have you ever wondered What happens to all the poems people write? The poems they never let anyone else read? Perhaps they are Too private and personal Perhaps they are just not good enough. Perhaps the prospect of such a heartfelt expression being seen as clumsy shallow silly pretentious saccharine unoriginal sentimental trite boring overwrought obscure stupid pointless or simply embarrassing is enough to give any aspiring poet good reason to hide their work from public view. forever. Naturally many poems are IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED. Burnt shredded flushed away Occasionally they are folded Into little squares And wedged under the corner of An unstable piece of furniture (So actually quite useful) Others are hidden behind a loose brick or drainpipe or sealed into the back of an old alarm clock or put between the pages of AN OBSCURE BOOK that is unlikely to ever be opened. someone might find them one day, BUT PROBABLY NOT The truth is that unread poetry Will almost always be just that. DOOMED to join a vast invisible river of waste that flows out of suburbia. well Almost always. On rare occasions, Some especially insistent pieces of writing will escape into a backyard or a laneway be blown along a roadside embankment and finally come to rest in a shopping center parking lot as so many things do It is here that something quite Remarkable takes place two or more pieces of poetry drift toward each other through a strange force of attraction unknown to science and ever so slowly cling together to form a tiny, shapeless ball. Left undisturbed, this ball gradually becomes larger and rounder as other free verses confessions secrets stray musings wishes and unsent love letters attach themselves one by one. Such a ball creeps through the streets Like a tumbleweed for months even years If it comes out only at night it has a good Chance of surviving traffic and children and through a slow rolling motion AVOIDS SNAILS (its number one predator) At a certain size, it instinctively shelters from bad weather, unnoticed but otherwise roams the streets searching for scraps of forgotten thought and feeling. Given time and luck the poetry ball becomes large HUGE ENORMOUS: A vast accumulation of papery bits That ultimately take to the air, levitating by The sheer force of so much unspoken emotion. It floats gently above suburban rooftops when everybody is asleep inspiring lonely dogs to bark in the middle of the night. Sadly a big ball of paper not matter how large and buoyant, is still a fragile thing. Sooner or LATER it will be surprised by a sudden gust of wind Beaten by driving rain and REDUCED in a matter of minutes to a billion soggy shreds. One morning everyone will wake up to find a pulpy mess covering front lawns clogging up gutters and plastering car windscreens. Traffic will be delayed children delighted adults baffled unable to figure out where it all came from Stranger still Will be the Discovery that Every lump of Wet paper Contains various faded words pressed into accidental verse. Barely visible but undeniably present To each reader they will whisper something different something joyful something sad truthful absurd hilarious profound and perfect No one will be able to explain the Strange feeling of weightlessness or the private smile that remains Long after the street sweepers have come and gone.

Shaun Tan
have-you-ever-wondered-what-happens-to-all-poems-people-write-the-poems-they-never-let-anyone-else-read-perhaps-they-are-too-private-personal-perhaps-they-are-just-not-good-enoug
?Earn cash when you save a quote by clicking
EARNED Load...
LEVEL : Load...