Thorny 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
jealousy-is-like-cactus-its-respond-reaction-is-thorny-kishore-bansal
it-is-better-to-be-tied-to-any-thorny-bush-than-to-be-with-cross-man-lady-gregory
they-had-entered-thorny-wilderness-golden-gates-their-childhood-had-for-ever-closed-behind-them-george-eliot
i-believe-in-the-compelling-power-of-love-i-do-not-understand-it-i-believe-it-to-be-the-most-fragrant-blossom-of-all-this-thorny-existence
life-is-thorny-youth-is-vain-and-to-be-wroth-with-one-we-love-doth-work-like-madness-in-brain-samuel-taylor-coleridge
she-had-come-into-garden-expecting-summer-roses-had-instead-been-caught-in-bank-twisted-thorny-frostbitten-vines-nenia-campbell
you-could-cry-get-worried-angry-like-any-other-human-being-as-long-as-you-remembered-that-up-above-your-spirit-was-laughing-out-loud-at-those-thorny-situation-paolo-coelho
let-us-try-to-see-things-from-their-better-side-you-complain-about-seeing-thorny-rose-bushes-me-i-rejoice-give-thanks-to-gods-that-thorns-have-roses-alphonse-karr
the-thorny-pointof-bare-distress-hath-taen-from-me-showof-smooth-civility-yet-am-i-inland-bredand-know-some-nurture-william-shakespeare
so-they-drove-again-vivien-sitting-up-looking-now-but-as-navigator-only-letting-desert-scratch-its-own-thorny-poetry-on-enormous-moon-douglas-woolf
so-truth-created-ultimate-lie-was-this-what-world-was-like-for-wizards-this-thorny-gray-tangle-where-right-wrong-were-mixed-there-was-no-telling-hilari-bell
you-could-cry-get-worried-angry-like-any-other-normal-human-being-as-long-as-you-remembered-that-up-above-your-spirit-was-laughing-out-loud-at-all-paulo-coelho
thine-to-work-as-well-as-pray-clearing-thorny-wrongs-away-plucking-up-weeds-sin-letting-heavens-warm-sunshine-in-john-greenleaf-whittier
one-reasons-people-like-romances-is-that-theyre-artificially-shaped-to-give-pattern-meaning-its-not-as-messy-as-everyday-life-as-difficult-thorny
deep-down-under-where-his-heart-resided-strangled-up-in-thorny-vines-guilt-anger-fear-longing-there-lay-something-deeper-in-him-something-that-he-couldnt-see-but-she-could-carol-
the-graceful-minuetdance-fancy-must-give-place-to-toilsome-thorny-pilgrimage-understanding-on-transition-from-age-romance-to-that-science-thomas-carlyle
for-variety-reasons-i-believe-time-is-right-to-resolve-many-long-standing-thorny-land-use-recreation-wilderness-designation-issues-in-central-michael-k-simpson
i-know-man-he-came-from-my-home-town-he-wore-his-passion-for-his-woman-like-thorny-crown-he-said-dolores-i-live-in-fear-my-love-for-yous-overpowering-im-afraid-that-i-will-disapp
the-slaves-custom-established-modewith-packhorse-constancy-we-keep-roadcrooked-straight-through-quags-thorny-dellstrue-to-jingling-our-leaders-william-cowper
dont-you-love-your-mother-dear-i-guess-a-hard-sharp-thorny-kind-love-that-might-be-pity-more-than-anything-else-dean-koontz
the-easy-gentle-sloping-path-is-not-path-true-virtue-it-demands-rough-thorny-road-michel-de-montaigne
in-response-to-jealous-comment-made-by-amber-pjs-mouth-snarls-open-if-you-arent-going-to-play-nice-my-thorny-little-bush-i-think-you-should-return-to-laurie-faria-stolarz
as-many-truths-as-men-occasionally-i-glimpse-truer-truth-hiding-in-imperfect-simulacrums-itself-but-as-i-approach-it-bestirs-itself-amp-moves-deeper-david-mitchell
her-sisters-shoes-they-sparkeled-even-in-darkening-afternoon-they-sparkeled-like-yellow-diamonds-embers-blood-thorny-stars-gregory-maguire
but-they-turned-away-we-unleashed-against-them-flood-dam-we-substituted-their-two-gardens-with-two-gardens-bitter-fruits-thorny-shrubs-meager-harvest-saba-16
i-like-devilish-thorny-dirty-mean-roles-muck-mire-unbelievably-sad-unbelievably-happy-burdened-inner-conflict-thats-where-drama-is-amanda-plummer
so-when-she-looked-in-mirror-one-day-saw-beginning-thorny-protrusions-on-her-legs-slight-greenish-tinge-to-her-skin-she-sighed-it-was-inevitable-the-monster-in-her-bedroom-havok-
let-love-step-downopen-clasped-handsforfeit-thorny-crownretrieve-garmentthat-was-wholebody-spirit-one-spirit-soul-hilda-doolittle
our-love-is-like-red-red-rose-i-am-little-thorny-jim-carrey
sex-is-killer-sexual-love-makes-you-feel-more-vulnerable-than-any-other-kind-love-thats-one-reason-that-people-are-thorny-vulnerable-easily-vivian-gornick
but-whats-left-on-earth-that-i-havent-tried-prince-ler-demanded-i-have-swum-four-rivers-each-in-full-flood-none-less-than-mile-wide-i-have-climbed-seven-mountains-never-before-cl
All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam's waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam's curse. 'Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.' A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.

Annie Dillard
all-at-once-something-wonderful-happened-although-at-first-it-seemed-perfectly-ordinary-a-female-goldfinch-suddenly-hove-into-view-she-lighted-weightlessly-on-head-bankside-purpl
Little Red-Cap At childhood's end, the houses petered out into playing fields, the factory, allotments kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men, the silent railway line, the hermit's caravan, till you came at last to the edge of the woods. It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf. He stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw, red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth! In the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me, sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink, my first. You might ask why. Here's why. Poetry. The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods, away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake, my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes but got there, wolf's lair, better beware. Lesson one that night, breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem. I clung till dawn to his thrashing fur, for what little girl doesn't dearly love a wolf? Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws and went in search of a living bird - white dove - which flew, straight, from my hands to his hope mouth. One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said, licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with books. Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head, warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood. But then I was young - and it took ten years in the woods to tell that a mushroom stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out, season after season, same rhyme, same reason. I took an axe to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw the glistening, virgin white of my grandmother's bones. I filled his old belly with stones. I stitched him up. Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.

Carol Ann Duffy
little-redcap-at-childhoods-end-houses-petered-out-into-playing-fields-factory-allotments-kept-like-mistresses-by-kneeling-married-men-silent-railway-line-hermits-caravan-till-yo
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