Whirlpool 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
the-amish-are-islands-sanity-in-whirlpool-change-nancy-sleeth
mans-experience-in-world-is-to-enable-him-to-get-out-its-whirlpool-swami-vivekananda
the-right-way-usually-lies-between-two-extremes-it-is-narrow-channel-between-rock-whirlpool-charles-spurgeon
now-do-you-believe-in-powers-like-human-seed-and-how-evolution-happens-how-whirlpool-spins-in-me-toni-childs
i-felt-like-high-school-for-me-was-like-big-whirlpool-me-trying-to-figure-out-what-was-ok-for-me-to-do-donald-glover
artistic-creativity-is-whirlpool-imagination-that-swirls-in-depths-mind-robert-toth
you-may-drown-yourself-in-whirlpool-bitterness-or-you-may-surf-on-tidal-wave-forgiveness-jim-hargadon
a-living-body-is-not-fixed-thing-but-flowing-event-like-flame-whirlpool-alan-watts
lasordas-standard-reply-when-some-new-kid-would-ask-directions-to-whirlpool-was-to-tell-him-to-stick-his-foot-in-toilet-flush-it-steve-garvey
to-me-front-is-mysterious-whirlpool-though-i-am-in-still-water-far-away-from-its-centre-i-feel-whirl-vortex-sucking-me-slowly-irresistibly-erich-maria-remarque
while-im-playing-baseball-im-still-writing-songs-having-tapes-sent-to-me-im-sure-ill-spend-lot-time-in-whirlpool-resting-these-tired-bones-ill-be-garth-brooks
a-womans-body-is-dark-monstrous-mystery-between-her-supple-thighs-heavy-whirlpool-swirls-two-rivers-crash-woe-to-him-who-slips-falls-nikos-kazantzakis
his-lips-crashed-against-hers-if-there-had-been-air-in-her-lungs-she-wouldnt-have-known-what-to-do-with-it-he-kissed-her-fiercely-making-her-head-spin-wilder-than-whirlpool-knock
anyone-who-objects-to-any-government-whatsoever-as-form-socialism-ought-not-to-pull-that-socialist-lever-in-their-home-one-that-makes-their-waste-disappear-in-whirlpool-into-soci
desire-is-storm-greed-is-whirlpool-pride-is-precipice-attachment-is-avalanche-ego-is-volcano-discard-desire-you-are-liberated-sathya-sai-baba
in-my-shoes-in-my-shoes-there-is-much-to-astound-me-as-whirlpool-spins-around-me-home-midnight-oil
each-makes-this-cosmos-its-construction-pivot-his-emotional-life-in-order-to-find-in-this-way-peace-security-which-he-can-not-find-in-narrow-whirlpool-personal-experience-albert-
waited-for-my-brother-didnt-talk-to-anybody-nobody-talked-to-her-because-shed-always-been-one-those-quiet-semiretarded-girls-who-you-couldnt-talk-to-without-being-dragged-into-wh
each-black-hole-spins-on-its-axis-like-earth-spins-that-spin-creates-two-vortexes-twisting-space-somewhat-like-vortexes-in-bathtub-whirlpool
the-religious-situation-our-people-is-unstable-this-is-because-lack-religious-teachers-other-dedicated-people-as-result-fiji-indians-are-like-totaram-sanadhya
i-want-to-talk-about-moonlight-i-want-to-talk-about-wild-child-you-know-that-real-wild-one-dancing-alone-in-middle-whirlpool-grebenshikov-boris
Put it on record -I am an Arab And the number of my card is fifty thousand I have eight children And the ninth is due after summer. What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab Working with comrades of toil in a quarry. I have eight childern For them I wrest the loaf of bread, The clothes and exercise books From the rocks And beg for no alms at your doors, -Lower not myself at your doorstep. -What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab. I am a name without a tide, Patient in a country where everything Lives in a whirlpool of anger. -My roots -Took hold before the birth of time -Before the burgeoning of the ages, -Before cypess and olive trees, -Before the proliferation of weeds. My father is from the family of the plough -Not from highborn nobles. And my grandfather was a peasant -Without line or genealogy. My house is a watchman's hut -Made of sticks and reeds. Does my status satisfy you? -I am a name without a surname. Put it on Record. -I am an Arab. Color of hair: jet black. Color of eyes: brown. My distinguishing features: -On my head the 'iqal cords over a keffiyeh -Scratching him who touches it. My address: -I'm from a village, remote, forgotten, -Its streets without name -And all its men in the fields and quarry. -What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab. You stole my forefathers' vineyards -And land I used to till, -I and all my childern, -And you left us and all my grandchildren -Nothing but these rocks. -Will your government be taking them too -As is being said? So! -Put it on record at the top of page one: -I don't hate people, -I trespass on no one's property. And yet, if I were to become starved -I shall eat the flesh of my usurper. -Beware, beware of my starvation. -And of my anger!

Mahmoud Darwish
put-it-on-record-i-am-arab-and-number-my-card-is-fifty-thousand-i-have-eight-children-and-ninth-is-due-after-summer-whats-there-to-be-angry-about-put-it-on-record-i-am-arab-worki
LITTLE BOY WAR He stands alone On a vacant road, Hands shaking from the cold. His heart is aching from the untold. Under his right arm Is a tattered bag, Which he holds tightly As if it were filled with gold. He's just six, Going on seven. And it's past ten, Going on eleven. He takes another toke From his cowboy smoke, And wishes he too Could have died with his brother And taken the ride to Heaven. His tummy rumbles and grumbles. He feels faint and tries hard not to stumble. His eyes scream with muted cries, Too loud for his tired soul to conjure enough energy To even mumble. Little kid scared, Alone in the middle of a war zone somewhere, Past curfew and without a clue As to what to do or to go where. He is just standing there with A shark's glazed and Lifeless stare. And yet, His eyes reveal a whirlpool of disaster, Just another tragic kid Who can't help growing up any faster. The streets are dark and it's just him, Standing in the shadow of a blinking ATM. He now thinks of his worn mother, And how she once took his torn shirt And lovingly sewn its hem back together. He never understood Why she had always told him: 'Buckle your sandals!' She used to call, 'Buckle them good So you walk right and Stand taller than them all!' So why did he feel so small? And why does he feel like he's about to fall? He kicks his little sandals At the sand Trying to understand What Uncle Sam And his freedom plan Had done to his once beautiful land. Babylon is crashing. In front of him, memories are flashing - Rubble, ash, blood, and dust, An empire once fueled with beauty and gust Now buried under artillery, bones, and rust. In the corner of his eye, He sees a tank suddenly appear He tries to focus on its lights Like a lost and rampant deer Then that chilling electric sound Cuts and pierces through his ears The tank stops. A lady emerges from its top, And examines the boy and sneers. She asks him what he is doing outside by himself And warns him that there are now new rules That all must adhere. But Little Boy War Glares without A drip of fear. He swings his precious bag high up in the air And cries: 'I'm not alone! Look! My mother is in here!' I watched from a distance Then turn away to disappear My heart felt like a cold rock And I couldn't control my tears. Behind my back And in my mind The little boy's Words echo forever So loud And clear: 'In here and always near. Her hands and heart are right here!

Suzy Kassem
little-boy-war-he-stands-alone-on-vacant-road-hands-shaking-from-cold-his-heart-is-aching-from-untold-under-his-right-arm-is-tattered-bag-which-he-holds-tightly-as-if-it-were-fil
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