Smudge 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
im-just-trying-to-make-smudge-on-collective-unconscious
i-fought-a-killer-and-didnt-even-smudge-my-makeup
i-fought-killer-didnt-even-smudge-my-makeup-rose-pressey
smudge-your-eyeliner-it-creates-smoky-effect
the-unredacted-text-hides-black-smudge-mark-john-alejandro-king
just-as-pollock-used-drip-to-meld-process-product-richter-found-used-smudge-blur-to-ravish-eye-creating-works-psychic-physical-power-jerry-saltz
thats-trouble-with-living-things-dont-last-long-kittens-one-day-old-cats-next-and-then-just-memories-and-memories-fade-blend-smudge-together-neil-gaiman
no-matter-how-much-you-try-to-maintain-order-in-your-life-no-matter-how-careful-you-are-to-guard-against-mistakes-against-imperfections-there-is-always-some-smudge-some-flaw-lurk
an-editor-named-kerrie-hughes-wanted-me-to-write-short-story-that-brought-my-fire-spider-smudge-from-my-goblin-books-into-present-day-world-i-came-up-with-libriomancy-as-way-to-m
all-parents-damage-their-children-it-cannot-be-helped-youth-like-pristine-glass-absorbs-prints-its-handlers-some-parents-smudge-others-crack-few-shatter-childhoods-completely-int
simon-said-voice-at-his-shoulder-he-turned-to-see-izzy-her-face-pale-smudge-between-dark-hair-dark-cloak-looking-at-him-her-expression-halfangry-halfsad-i-guess-this-is-part-wher
shame-aint-black-like-dirt-like-i-always-thought-it-was-shame-be-color-new-white-uniform-your-mother-ironed-all-night-to-pay-for-white-without-smudge-speck-workdirt-on-it-kathryn
I must have roamed dementedly about for a time in the streets. When I at last got back to my own place, Faustine was again there ahead of me, coiled torpid in the bed like a loathsome boa-constrictor. She was already in the never-never land where ghouls like her belonged. I covered her face with one of the pillows, pressed down upon it with the weight of my whole body, held it there until she should have been dead ten times over. Yet when I removed the pillow to look, the black of strangulation was missing from her face. She was still in that state of suspended animation that defied me, a taunting smile visible about her lips. I had a gun in my valise, from years before when I'd been on an engineering job in the jungles of Ecuador. I got it out, looked it over. It was still in good working order, although it only had one bullet left in it. That one would be enough. She wasn't going to escape me! I pressed the muzzle to her smooth white forehead, mid-center. "Die, damn you!" I growled, and pulled the trigger back. It exploded with a crash. A film of smoke hid her face from me for a minute. When it had cleared again, I looked. There was no bullet-hole in her skull! A black powder-smudge marked the point of contact. The gun dropped to the floor with a thud. That ineradicable smile still glimmered up at me, as if to say: "You see? You can't." I rubbed my finger over the black; the skin was unbroken underneath. A blank cartridge, that must have been it. I raised her head; there was a rent in the sheet under it. I probed through it with two fingers. I could feel the bullet lying imbedded down in the stuffing of the mattress. ("Vampire's Honeymoon)

Cornell Woolrich
i-must-have-roamed-dementedly-about-for-time-in-streets-when-i-at-last-got-back-to-my-own-place-faustine-was-again-there-ahead-me-coiled-torpid-in-bed-like-loathsome-boaconstrict
In those days, long before, a view over the rooftops of Paris was an unaffordable luxury. The apartment he had shared with a mousy young writer from Laon had a view of the Jardin de Luxembourg - if he stuck his head out of the window as far as it would go and twisted it to the left, a smudge of green foliage appeared in the corner of one eye. That had been his best apartment to date. They had decorated it in the 'Bohemian' style of the 1830s : a few volumes of Shakespeare and Victor Hugo, a Phrygian cap, an Algerian hookah, a skull on a broomstick handle (from the brother of a friend, Charles Toubin, who was an intern at one of the big hospitals) and, of course, a window box of geraniums, which was not only pretty but also illegal. (Death by falling window box was always high up the official list of fatalities.) For a proper view of Paris, they visited Henry's painter friends who lived in a warren of attic rooms near the Barriere d'Enfer and called themselves the Water-Drinkers. When the weather was fine and the smell of their own squalor became unbearable, they clambered onto the roof and sat on the gutters and ridges, sketching chimneyscapes, and sending up more smoke from their pipes than the fireplaces below. Three of the Water-Drinkers had since died of various illnesses known collectively as 'lack of money'. When the last of the three was buried, in the spring of 1844, Henry and the others had found themselves at the graveside without a sou to give a gravedigger. 'Never mind', said he, 'you can pay me the next time, ' and then, to his collegue : 'It's all right - these gentlemen are a regular customers.

Graham Robb
in-those-days-long-before-view-over-rooftops-paris-was-unaffordable-luxury-the-apartment-he-had-shared-with-mousy-young-writer-from-laon-had-view-jardin-de-luxembourg-if-he-stuck
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