Sprawling 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
it-is-better-not-to-sit-on-grass-after-thirty-when-sprawling-at-all-is-difficult-let-alone-sprawling-gracefully
im-american-always-will-be-i-happen-to-love-that-big-awkward-sprawling-country-much-its-big-awkward-sprawling-people
for-me-theres-nothing-better-than-getting-immersed-in-sprawling-epic-multi-generational-family-saga-one-hundred-years-solitude-by-gabriel-garcia-marquez-is-most-sprawling-epic-mu
nature-does-not-proceed-in-straight-line-it-is-rather-sprawling-development
realworld-was-sprawling-mess-book-in-need-good-editor-jasper-fforde
the-red-sands-marrakesh-sprawling-at-foot-atlas-like-wounded-leviathan-rosita-forbes
god-did-not-become-flesh-suffer-ignominious-death-at-our-hands-that-we-could-have-sprawling-church-campuses-programs-budgets-michael-s-horton
london-with-its-monotonous-melancholy-houses-seems-like-inharmonious-patchwork-as-if-pieced-together-without-design-yet-it-is-lovable-in-its-joseph-fort-newton
there-are-times-when-one-is-tempted-to-say-that-great-sprawling-lethargic-sin-sloth-is-oldest-greatest-sins-parent-all-rest-dorothy-l-sayers
i-have-seen-really-liked-varied-movie-adaptations-book-but-little-women-has-sprawling-richly-tangled-story-that-needs-time-space-to-weave-its-magic
animals-when-in-company-walk-in-proper-sensible-manner-in-single-file-instead-sprawling-all-across-road-being-no-use-support-to-each-other-in-kenneth-grahame
braveheart-is-one-my-favorite-movies-to-be-part-epic-sprawling-period-film-is-on-my-bucket-list-something-with-some-grandeur-to-it-really-awesome-score-something-thats-just-kind-
i-didnt-realize-boston-was-easy-to-get-around-in-my-head-i-imagined-boston-being-this-really-sprawling-city
challenge-america-grants-go-to-towns-hamlets-this-sprawling-country-where-big-touring-companies-will-rarely-go-major-actors-actresses-writers-louise-slaughter
and-then-he-was-shrieking-blaze-jumping-sprawling-gibbering-manikin-no-longer-human-known-all-writhing-flame-on-lawn-as-montag-shot-one-continuous-pulse-liquid-fire-on-him-ray-br
our-carefully-constructed-system-checks-balances-is-being-negated-by-rise-fourth-branch-administrative-state-sprawling-departments-agencies-that-govern-with-increasing-autonomy-d
so-long-as-i-can-remember-my-siblings-i-would-have-star-wars-action-figures-fisher-price-action-figures-we-would-build-these-sprawling-compounds
atlantas-good-example-city-thats-quite-sprawling-where-theres-sharp-division-between-where-blacks-whites-live-between-where-lowincome-highincome-raj-chetty
it-was-our-passion-for-words-our-ardent-desire-to-write-that-drew-me-michael-together-same-that-drove-us-apart-michael-wanted-to-be-great-playwright-like-former-master-moliere-he
Some had hurled spears first. Those spears thumped into our shields, making them unwieldy, but it hardly mattered. The leading Danes tripped on the hidden timbers and the men behind pushed the falling men forward. I kicked one in the face, feeling my iron-reinforced boot crush bone. Danes were sprawling at our feet while others tried to get past their fallen comrades to reach our line, and we were killing. Two men succeeded in reaching us, despite the smoking barricade, and one of those two feel to Wasp-Sting coming up from beneath his shield-rim. He had been swinging an ax that the man behind me caught on his shield and the Dane was still holding the war ax's shaft as I saw his eyes widen, saw the snarl of his mouth turn to agony as I saw his eyes widen, saw the snarl of his mouth turn to agony as I twisted the blade, ripping it upward, and as Cerdic, beside me, chopped his own ax down. The man with the crushed face was holding my ankle and I stabbed at him as the blood spray from Cerdic's ax blinded me. The whimpering man at my feet tried to crawl away, but Finan stabbed his sword into his thigh, then stabbed again. A Dane had hooked up his ax over the top rim of my shield and hauled it down to expose my body to a spear-thrust, but the ax rolled off the circular shield and the spear was deflected upward and I slammed Wasp-Sting forward again, felt her bite, twisted her, and Finan was keening his mad Irish song as he added his own blade to the slaughter. 'Keep the shields touching!' I shouted at my men.

Bernard Cornwell
some-had-hurled-spears-first-those-spears-thumped-into-our-shields-making-them-unwieldy-but-it-hardly-mattered-the-leading-danes-tripped-on-hidden-timbers-men-behind-pushed-falli
In Shanghai's prime, no city in the Orient, or the world for that matter, could compare with it. At the peak of its spectacular career the swamp-ridden metropolis surely ranked as the most pleasure-mad, rapacious, corrupt, strife-ridden, licentious, squalid, and decadent city in the world. It was the most pleasure-mad because nowhere else did the population pursue amusement, from feasting to whoring, dancing to powder-taking, with such abandoned zeal. It was rapacious because greed was its driving force; strife-ridden because calamity was always at the door; licentious because it catered to every depravity known to man; squalid because misery stared one brazenly in the face; and decadent because morality, as every Shanghai resident knew, was irrelevant. The missionaries might rail at Shanghai's wickedness and reformers condemn its iniquities, but there was never reason for the city to mend its errant ways, for as a popular Chinese saying aptly observed, "Shanghai is like the emperor's ugly daughter; she never has to worry about finding suitors." Other great cities - Rome, Athens, or St. Petersburg, for instance - might flatter themselves that they had been conceived for virtuous, even heroic, purposes. Not so the ugly daughter who reveled in her bastard status. Half Oriental, half Occidental: half land, half water; neither a colony nor wholly belonging to China; inhabited by the citizens of every nation in the world but ruled by none, the emperor's ugly daughter was an anomaly among cities. The strange fruit of a forced union between East and West, this mongrel princess came into the world through a grasping premise-the right of one nation to foist a poisonous drug upon another. Born in greed and humiliation, the ugly daughter grew up in the shadow of the Celestial Empire's defeat by outsiders in the Opium War. Nonetheless, within decades, she had become Asia's greatest metropolis, a brash sprawling juggernaut of a city that dominated the rest of the country with its power, sophistication, and, most of all money.

Stella Dong
in-shanghais-prime-no-city-in-orient-world-for-that-matter-could-compare-with-it-at-peak-its-spectacular-career-swampridden-metropolis-surely-ranked-as-most-pleasuremad-rapacious
Reality, at first glance, is a simple thing: the television speaking to you now is real. Your body sunk into that chair in the approach to midnight, a clock ticking at the threshold of awareness. All the endless detail of a solid and material world surrounding you. These things exist. They can be measured with a yardstick, a voltammeter, a weighing scale. These things are real. Then there's the mind, half-focused on the TV, the settee, the clock. This ghostly knot of memory, idea and feeling that we call ourself also exists, though not within the measurable world our science may describe. Consciousness is unquantifiable, a ghost in the machine, barely considered real at all, though in a sense this flickering mosaic of awareness is the only true reality that we can ever know. The Here-and-Now demands attention, is more present to us. We dismiss the inner world of our ideas as less important, although most of our immediate physical reality originated only in the mind. The TV, sofa, clock and room, the whole civilisation that contains them once were nothing save ideas. Material existence is entirely founded on a phantom realm of mind, whose nature and geography are unexplored. Before the Age of Reason was announced, humanity had polished strategies for interacting with the world of the imaginary and invisible: complicated magic-systems; sprawling pantheons of gods and spirits, images and names with which we labelled powerful inner forces so that we might better understand them. Intellect, Emotion and Unconscious Thought were made divinities or demons so that we, like Faust, might better know them; deal with them; become them. Ancient cultures did not worship idols. Their god-statues represented ideal states which, when meditated constantly upon, one might aspire to. Science proves there never was a mermaid, blue-skinned Krishna or a virgin birth in physical reality. Yet thought is real, and the domain of thought is the one place where gods inarguably ezdst, wielding tremendous power. If Aphrodite were a myth and Love only a concept, then would that negate the crimes and kindnesses and songs done in Love's name? If Christ were only ever fiction, a divine Idea, would this invalidate the social change inspired by that idea, make holy wars less terrible, or human betterment less real, less sacred? The world of ideas is in certain senses deeper, truer than reality; this solid television less significant than the Idea of television. Ideas, unlike solid structures, do not perish. They remain immortal, immaterial and everywhere, like all Divine things. Ideas are a golden, savage landscape that we wander unaware, without a map. Be careful: in the last analysis, reality may be exactly what we think it is.

Alan Moore
reality-at-first-glance-is-simple-thing-television-speaking-to-you-now-is-real-your-body-sunk-into-that-chair-in-approach-to-midnight-clock-ticking-at-threshold-awareness-all-end
It was getting difficult to see exactly what was going on in the pool and a fourth officer jumped in as one came up with the unconscious form of the first cop. While others pulled the half-drowned man from the pool, three more wrestled Skorzeny to the surface and dragged him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He wasn't struggling any longer. Nor was he breathing with any apparent difficulty. The biggest of the three cops later admitted to punching him as hard as he could in the stomach and Skorzey doubled over. Another half-dragged him, still on his feet, shirt torn, jacket ripped, out of the pool and put a handcuff on his left wrist. Skorzeny pulled his arm away from the cop and, suddenly straightening, elbow-jabbed him in the gut, sending him sprawling and rolling back into the pool. Skorzeny turned toward the back fence and was now between the pool and a small palm tree. Before him were two advancing officers, pistols leveled. Behind him two more circled the pool. Skorzeny lunged forward and all fired simultaneously. The noise was deafening. Lights in neighboring houses began to go on. Skorzeny's body twitched and bucked as the heavy slugs ripped through his body. His forward momentum carried him into the officers ahead of him and he half-crawled, half-staggered to the southeast corner of the yard where another gate was set into the fiberglass fencing. Two more officers, across the pool, cut loose with their pistols, emptying them into this writing body which danced like a puppet. Another cop fired two shots from his pump-action shotgun and Skorzeny was lifted clean off his feet and slammed against the gate, sagging to the ground. En masse from both ends of the pool they advanced, when he gave out with a terrible hissing snarl and started to rise once more. All movement ceased as the cops, to a man, stood frozen in their tracks. Skorzeny stood there like some hideous caricature, his shredding clothing and skin hanging like limp rags from his scarecrow form. His flesh was ripped in several places and he was oozing something that looked like watered-down blood. It was pinkish and transparent. He stood there like a living nightmare. Then he straightened and raised his fist with the cuff still dangling from it like a charm bracelet. 'Fools!' he shrieked. 'You can't kill me. You can't even hurt me.' Overhead, the copter hovered, the copilot giving a blow-by-blow description of the fight over the radio. The police on the ground were paralyzed. Nearly thirty shots had been fired (the bullets later tallied in reports turned in by the participating officers) and their quarry was still as strong as ever. He'd been hit repeatedly in the head and legs, so a bulletproof vest wasn't the answer. And at distances sometimes as little as five feet, they could hardly have missed. They'd seen him hit. They stood frozen in an eerie tableau as the still roiling pool water threw weird reflections all over the yard. Then Skorzeny did the most frightening thing of all. He smiled. A red-rimmed, hideous grin revealing fangs that 'would have done justice to a Doberman Pinscher.

Jeff Rice
it-was-getting-difficult-to-see-exactly-what-was-going-on-in-pool-fourth-officer-jumped-in-as-one-came-up-with-unconscious-form-first-cop-while-others-pulled-halfdrowned-man-from
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