Sped 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
this-is-all-real-they-really-went-at-it-its-not-sped-up-and-course-hayden-ewan-love-this-rick-mccallum
fame-then-was-cheap-first-comer-sped-and-they-have-kept-it-since-by-being-dead-john-dryden
weve-been-happy-with-studio-pro-its-definitely-sped-up-development-john-thompson
the-creatures-sped-back-forth-like-flashes-lightning-ezekiel-114
when-improvisation-is-properly-applied-it-is-compositional-thinking-sped-way-up
as-internet-has-sped-up-consumer-experience-customer-expectations-are-higher
the-internet-camera-cellphone-like-have-not-only-sped-up-worlds-information-uptake-but-they-have-cheapened-that-which-they-capture-henry-rollins
four-things-come-not-back-spoken-word-sped-arrow-past-life-neglected-opportunity-proverb
four-things-come-not-back-the-spoken-word-sped-arrow-past-life-ad-neglected-opportunity-arabian-proverb
four-things-do-not-come-back-spoken-word-sped-arrow-past-life-neglected-opportunity-ted-chiang
i-have-sped-by-land-sea-mingled-with-much-people-but-never-yet-could-find-spot-unsunned-by-human-kindness-martin-farquhar-tupper
time-sped-and-poet-through-sorrow-became-like-his-suffering-kind-again-he-toiled-over-his-poems-to-lighten-grief-his-mind-ella-wheeler-wilcox
thus-sped-by-currents-curiosity-afloat-swift-river-rumor-do-secrets-sail-to-strange-ports-will-eisner
on-wagon-sped-i-as-well-as-my-comrades-gave-despairing-farewell-glance-at-freedom-as-we-came-in-sight-long-stone-buildings-nellie-bly
the-moving-light-rejoicing-in-its-strength-sped-from-pyre-pine-urged-its-way-in-golden-glory-like-some-strange-new-sun-aeschylus
theres-something-great-about-terrible-westerns-they-look-like-gay-dancers-bad-overwrought-dialogue-overacting-black-white-sped-up-horses-alec-sulkin
under-his-spurning-feet-roadlike-arrowly-alpine-river-flowedand-landscape-sped-away-behindlike-ocean-flying-before-wind-thomas-buchanan-read
three-things-cannot-be-retrieved-the-arrow-once-sped-from-bow-the-word-spoken-in-haste-the-missed-opportunity-ali-lion-islam-idries-shah
when-he-remembered-his-indrawn-breath-pulled-her-scent-into-his-mouth-coating-his-tongue-with-her-taste-he-swallowed-that-delicious-flavor-as-his-heartbeat-sped-kat-simons
digital-photography-has-sped-up-process-to-point-that-its-bit-selfdestructive-it-is-like-driving-by-new-neighborhood-without-stopping-for-walk-mona-kuhn
a-tall-young-man-sped-swiftly-up-wide-stone-steps-leading-to-doorway-mansion-in-one-chicagos-most-fashionable-avenues-george-barr-mccutcheon
i-knew-it-was-foolhardy-men-experience-say-four-things-do-not-come-back-spoken-word-sped-arrow-past-life-neglected-opportunity-ted-chiang
o-sweet-delusive-noon-which-the-morning-climbs-to-find-o-moment-sped-too-soon-and-morning-left-behind
lightly-i-sped-when-hope-was-highand-youth-beguiled-chasei-follow-follow-still-but-ishall-never-see-her-face-frederick-lockerlampson
just-think-safe-location-are-there-tennis-balls-in-soup-come-on-be-serious-a-pear-camping-highway-fire-mask-he-said-more-intensely-my-heart-rate-which-had-finally-started-slowing
from-cats-are-kind-i-saw-dog-pursuing-automobiles-on-on-he-sped-i-was-puzzled-by-this-i-accosted-dog-if-you-catch-one-i-said-what-will-you-do-with-it-dumb-cat-he-cried-and-ran-on
through-all-people-music-love-would-pour-bringing-light-to-swords-that-sped-through-darkness-and-light-their-blades-would-lead-constellations-to-their-destination-david-paul-kirk
and-connected-i-had-been-when-fish-changed-directions-i-felt-it-when-it-slowed-sped-up-i-felt-that-too-its-such-raw-thing-this-shared-existence-jessica-maxwell
i-sped-through-heaven-saw-god-at-work-i-suffered-holy-pains-i-dropped-all-my-defenses-was-afraid-nothing-in-world-i-accepted-all-things-to-all-hermann-hesse
progress-however-slow-is-still-progress-but-be-it-for-better-if-sped-up-quicker-solange-nicole
three-things-three-things-cannot-be-retrieved-the-arrow-once-sped-from-bow-the-word-spoken-in-haste-the-missed-opportunity-ali-lion-caliph-islam-soninlaw-mohammed-prophet-idries-
i-saw-man-pursuing-horizonround-round-they-spedi-was-disturbed-at-thisi-accosted-manit-is-futile-i-saidyou-can-neveryou-lie-he-criedand-ran-on-stephen-crane
i-spedread-through-book-that-probably-weighed-pound-though-i-only-gleaned-about-nine-ounces-information-thats-because-it-was-book-on-love-that-i-read-while-making-love-i-multitas
every-day-he-thought-would-last-forever-night-forever-dawn-drag-eternally-another-long-empty-day-to-light-forever-yet-they-sped-away-day-night-william-h-gass
I paid the taxi driver, got out with my suitcase, surveyed my surroundings, and just as I was turning to ask the driver something or get back into the taxi and return forthwith to Chille¡n and then to Santiago, it sped off without warning, as if the somewhat ominous solitude of the place had unleashed atavistic fears in the driver's mind. For a moment I too was afraid. I must have been a sorry sight standing there helplessly with my suitcase from the seminary, holding a copy of Farewell's Anthology in one hand. Some birds flew out from behind a clump of trees. They seemed to be screaming the name of that forsaken village, Querquen, but they also seemed to be enquiring who: quien, quien, quien. I said a hasty prayer and headed for a wooden bench, there to recover a composure more in keeping with what I was, or what at the time I considered myself to be. Our Lady, do not abandon your servant, I murmured, while the black birds, about twenty-five centimetres in length, cried quien, quien, quien. Our Lady of Lourdes, do not abandon your poor priest, I murmured, while other birds, about ten centimetres long, brown in colour, or brownish, rather, with white breasts, called out, but not as loudly, quien, quien, quien, Our Lady of Suffering, Our Lady of Insight, Our Lady of Poetry, do not leave your devoted subject at the mercy of the elements, I murmured, while several tiny birds, magenta, black, fuchsia, yellow and blue in colour, wailed quien, quien, quien, at which point a cold wind sprang up suddenly, chilling me to the bone.

Roberto Bolae±o
i-paid-taxi-driver-got-out-with-my-suitcase-surveyed-my-surroundings-just-as-i-was-turning-to-ask-driver-something-get-back-into-taxi-return-forthwith-to-chillen-then-to-santiago
Where am I?" Magnus croaked. "Nazca." "Oh, so we went on a little trip." "You broke into a man's house, " Catarina said. "You stole a carpet and enchanted it to fly. Then you sped off into the night air. We pursued you on foot." "Ah, " said Magnus. "You were shouting some things." "What things?" "I prefer not to repeat them, " Catarina said. "I also prefer not to remember the time we spent in the desert. It is a mammoth desert, Magnus. Ordinary deserts are quite large. Mammoth deserts are so called because they are larger than ordinary deserts." "Thank you for that interesting and enlightening information, " Magnus croaked. "You told us to leave you in the desert, because you planned to start a new life as a cactus, " Catarina said, her voice flat. "Then you conjured up tiny needles and threw them at us. With pinpoint accuracy." "Well, " he said with dignity. "Considering my highly intoxicated state, you must have been impressed with my aim." "'Impressed' is not the word to use to describe how I felt last night, Magnus." "I thank you for stopping me there, " Magnus said. "It was for the best. You are a true friend. No harm done. Let's say no more about it. Could you possibly fetch me - " "Oh, we couldn't stop you, " Catarina interrupted. "We tried, but you giggled, leaped onto the carpet, and flew away again. You kept saying that you wanted to go to Moquegua." "What did I do in Moquegua?" "You never got there, " Catarina said. "But you were flying about and yelling and trying to, ahem, write messages for us with your carpet in the sky." "We then stopped for a meal, " Catarina said. "You were most insistent that we try a local specialty that you called cuy. We actually had a very pleasant meal, even though you were still very drunk." "I'm sure I must have been sobering up at that point, " Magnus argued. "Magnus, you were trying to flirt with your own plate." "I'm a very open-minded sort of fellow!" "Ragnor is not, " Catarina said. "When he found out that you were feeding us guinea pigs, he hit you over the head with your plate. It broke." "So ended our love, " Magnus said. "Ah, well. It would never have worked between me and the plate anyway. I'm sure the food did me good, Catarina, and you were very good to feed me and put me to bed - " Catarina shook her head."You fell down on the floor. Honestly, we thought it best to leave you sleeping on the ground. We thought you would remain there for some time, but we took our eyes off you for one minute, and then you scuttled off. Ragnor claims he saw you making for the carpet, crawling like a huge demented crab.

Cassandra Clare
where-am-i-magnus-croaked-nazca-oh-we-went-on-little-trip-you-broke-into-mans-house-catarina-said-you-stole-carpet-enchanted-it-to-fly-then-you-sped-off-into-night-air-we-pursued
In her fantastic mood she stretched her soft, clasped hands upward toward the moon. 'Sweet moon, ' she said in a kind of mock prayer, 'make your white light come down in music into my dancing-room here, and I will dance most deliciously for you to see". She flung her head backward and let her hands fall; her eyes were half closed, and her mouth was a kissing mouth. 'Ah! sweet moon, ' she whispered, 'do this for me, and I will be your slave; I will be what you will.' Quite suddenly the air was filled with the sound of a grand invisible orchestra. Viola did not stop to wonder. To the music of a slow saraband she swayed and postured. In the music there was the regular beat of small drums and a perpetual drone. The air seemed to be filled with the perfume of some bitter spice. Viola could fancy almost that she saw a smoldering campfire and heard far off the roar of some desolate wild beast. She let her long hair fall, raising the heavy strands of it in either hand as she moved slowly to the laden music. Slowly her body swayed with drowsy grace, slowly her satin shoes slid over the silver sand. The music ceased with a clash of cymbals. Viola rubbed her eyes. She fastened her hair up carefully again. Suddenly she looked up, almost imperiously. "Music! more music!" she cried. Once more the music came. This time it was a dance of caprice, pelting along over the violin-strings, leaping, laughing, wanton. Again an illusion seemed to cross her eyes. An old king was watching her, a king with the sordid history of the exhaustion of pleasure written on his flaccid face. A hook-nosed courtier by his side settled the ruffles at his wrists and mumbled, 'Ravissant! Quel malheur que la vieillesse!' It was a strange illusion. Faster and faster she sped to the music, stepping, spinning, pirouetting; the dance was light as thistle-down, fierce as fire, smooth as a rapid stream. The moment that the music ceased Viola became horribly afraid. She turned and fled away from the moonlit space, through the trees, down the dark alleys of the maze, not heeding in the least which turn she took, and yet she found herself soon at the outside iron gate. ("The Moon Slave")

Barry Pain
in-her-fantastic-mood-she-stretched-her-soft-clasped-hands-upward-toward-moon-sweet-moon-she-said-in-kind-mock-prayer-make-your-white-light-come-down-in-music-into-my-dancingroom
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