Swells 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
i-learned-strange-art-loneliness-weathered-yearning-that-swells-passes-swells-passes-when-you-walk-trail-alone-anna-carey
here-for-example-beautiful-silver-mirror-river-swells-boy-falls-in-water-ripples-sweetly-around-his-locks-he-sinks-after-short-while-silver-mirror-swells-as-before-adalbert-stift
but-more-i-think-it-more-i-want-her-more-my-desire-rises-swells-sarah-waters
pity-swells-tide-love-edward-young
the-swells-were-amazing-as-big-as-threestory-apartment-buildings-abby-sunderland
my-heart-swells-with-emotion-each-time-i-recall-sweetness-my-youth-peggy-toney-horton
sometimes-feeling-that-life-is-great-just-swells-up-inside-you-fills-you-with-joy-jackie-gleason
identity-selfbelief-courage-that-swells-from-within-borne-waters-drunk-deeply-fennel-hudson
the-february-sunshine-steeps-your-boughs-tints-buds-swells-leaves-within
what-is-there-that-confers-noblest-delight-what-is-that-which-swells-mans-breast-with-pride-above-that-which-any-other-experience-can-bring-to-him-mark-twain
downstairs-grandads-warning-barron-about-something-his-voice-swells-i-catch-words-in-my-day-we-were-feared-now-were-just-afraid-holly-black
just-tip-if-you-have-big-event-to-go-to-important-meeting-if-you-cry-enough-your-face-swells-up-giving-you-temporary-lift-bonnie-mcfarlane
if-you-put-wrong-foods-in-your-body-you-are-contaminated-dirty-your-stomach-swells-then-voice-says-why-did-you-do-that-dont-you-know-better-ugly-wicked-you-are-disgusting-to-me-b
fortitude-implies-firmness-strength-mind-that-enables-us-to-do-suffer-as-we-ought-it-rises-upon-opposition-like-river-swells-higher-for-having-jeremy-collier
the-meanest-flowret-vale-the-simplest-note-that-swells-gale-the-common-sun-air-skies-to-him-are-opening-paradise-thomas-gray
thus-one-memory-follows-another-until-waves-dash-together-over-our-heads-deep-sigh-swells-breast-which-warns-us-that-we-have-forgotten-to-breathe-in-midst-these-pure-thoughts
he-took-comfort-in-neon-signs-wild-strands-jazz-creeping-out-clubs-whenever-happy-swells-people-pushed-through-doors-in-their-finery-libba-bray
before-bud-swells-before-grass-springs-before-plough-is-started-comes-sugar-harvest-it-is-sequel-bitter-frost-sap-run-is-sweet-goodbye-winter-john-burroughs
my-grief-lies-all-within-these-external-manner-laments-are-merely-shadows-unseen-grief-that-swells-with-silence-in-torturd-soul-william-shakespeare
my-grief-lies-all-within-and-these-external-manners-of-lament-are-merely-shadows-to-the-unseen-grief-that-swells-with-silence-in-the-tortured-soul
my-grief-lies-all-within-and-these-external-manners-lament-are-merely-shadows-to-unseen-grief-that-swells-with-silence-in-tortured-soul-william-shakespeare
man-is-only-animal-that-when-you-pat-him-on-head-his-head-swells-up-charles-r-swindoll
i-dont-know-who-named-them-swells-theres-nothing-swell-about-them-they-should-have-named-them-awfuls-hugo-vihlen
if-gatherer-gathers-toomuch-nature-takes-out-man-what-she-puts-into-his-chest-swells-estate-but-kills-owner-nature-hates-monopolies-exceptions-ralph-waldo-emerson
as-some-tall-cliff-that-lifts-its-awful-form-swells-from-vale-midway-leaves-storm-though-round-its-breast-rolling-clouds-are-spread-eternal-oliver-goldsmith
life-is-as-sea-art-ship-in-which-man-conquers-lifes-crushing-formlessness-reducing-it-to-course-series-swells-tides-wind-currents-inscribed-on-ralph-ellison
a-persons-needs-are-met-his-appetite-subsides-a-persons-wants-are-met-his-thirst-swells-greedily-without-end-richelle-e-goodrich
from-rugged-cliffs-cape-liptrap-peninsula-jutting-bravely-into-swells-bass-strait-coast-arcs-southeast-hugging-waters-waratah-bay-with-sweeping-flat-lines-fine-pale-sand-knotty-s
i-shiver-tom-wakes-its-light-enough-to-see-his-eyes-open-are-you-cold-he-says-baby-are-you-cold-he-turns-that-his-arms-are-around-me-again-baby-are-cold-ball-hurt-inside-me-swell
I Hear the sledges with the bells - Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II Hear the mellow wedding bells - Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! - From the molten - golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! - how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III Hear the loud alarum bells - Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now - now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale - faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - Of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - In the clamor and the clanging of the bells! IV Hear the tolling of the bells - Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people - They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone - They are neither man nor woman - They are neither brute nor human - They are Ghouls: - And their king it is who tolls: - And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells: - Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells: - To the sobbing of the bells: - Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells - To the tolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells, - To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

Edgar Allan Poe
i-hear-sledges-with-bells-silver-bells-what-world-merriment-their-melody-foretells-how-they-tinkle-tinkle-tinkle-in-icy-air-night-while-stars-that-oversprinkle-all-heavens-seem-t
STAINS With red clay between my toes, and the sun setting over my head, the ghost of my mother blows in, riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord, riding on a honeysuckle breeze. Her teeth, the keys of a piano. I play her grinning ivory notes with cadenced fumbling fingers, splattered with paint, textured with scars. A song rises up from the belly of my past and rocks me in the bosom of buried memories. My mama's dress bears the stains of her life: blueberries, blood, bleach, and breast milk; She cradles in her arms a lifetime of love and sorrow; Its brilliance nearly blinds me. My fingers tire, as though I've played this song for years. The tune swells red, dying around the edges of a setting sun. A magnolia breeze blows in strong, a heavenly taxi sent to carry my mother home. She will not say goodbye. For there is no truth in spoken farewells. I am pregnant with a poem, my life lost in its stanzas. My mama steps out of her dress and drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet. She stands alone: bathed, blooming, burdened with nothing of this world. Her body is naked and beautiful, her wings gray and scorched, her brown eyes piercing the brown of mine. I watch her departure, her flapping wings: She doesn't look back, not even once, not even to whisper my name: Brenda. I lick the teeth of my piano mouth. With a painter's hands, with a writer's hands with rusty wrinkled hands, with hands soaked in the joys, the sorrows, the spills of my mother's life, I pick up eighty-one years of stains And pull her dress over my head. Her stains look good on me.

Brenda Sutton Rose
stains-with-red-clay-between-my-toes-sun-setting-over-my-head-ghost-my-mother-blows-in-riding-on-honeysuckle-breeze-oh-lord-riding-on-honeysuckle-breeze-her-teeth-keys-piano-i-pl
Say you could view a time lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, 'an infinite storm of beauty.' The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth's face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting, and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up- mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash-frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and crumble, like paths of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any image but the hunched shadowless figures of ghosts. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

Annie Dillard
say-you-could-view-time-lapse-film-our-planet-what-would-you-see-transparent-images-moving-through-light-infinite-storm-beauty-the-beginning-is-swaddled-in-mists-blasted-by-rando
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