Related Quotes
lonely song world
A thrush, because I'd been wrong, Burst rightly into song In a world not vague, not lonely, Not governed by me only. Richard Wilbur
lonely good-day writing
Writing is such lonely work that I try to keep myself cheered up. If something strikes me as funny in the act of writing, I throw it in just to amuse myself. If I think it's funny I assume a few other people will find it funny, and that seems to me to be a good day's work. William Zinsser
lonely fun writing
Writing wasn't easy and wasn't fun. It was hard and lonely, and the words seldom just flowed. William Zinsser
lonely loneliness destiny
There is a very holy and a very terrible isolation for the conscience of every man who seeks to read the destiny in affairs for others as well as for himself, for a nation as well as for individuals. That privacy no man can intrude upon. That lonely search of the spirit for the right perhaps no man can assist. Woodrow Wilson
lonely loneliness book
Often have I sighed to measure By myself a lonely pleasure,- Sighed to think I read a book, Only read, perhaps, by me. William Wordsworth
lonely nature rivers
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, wherever nature led. William Wordsworth
lonely sleep sky
The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills. William Wordsworth
lonely nature spring
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. William Wordsworth
lonely silly america
What a lonely and silly thing it is to be an Armenian writer in America. William Saroyan
pain torment
Her pain was very apparent, the torment she was in. Adrienne Barbeau
pain love-is fire
Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven, a hell Where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell Richard Barnfield
pain thinking gains
What we most value, we shall think no pains too great to gain. Richard Baxter
pain night mad
Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and wants to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations. Rebecca West
pain tolerance endurance
Pain, tolerance, endurance-when it comes down to that point, there's always something left. You just have to find it. Ryan Lochte
pain smoking want
What a weird thing smoking is and I can't stop it. I feel cosy, have a sense of well-being when I'm smoking, poisoning myself, killing myself slowly. Not so slowly maybe. I have all kinds of pains I don't want to know about and I know that's what they're from. But when I don't smoke I scarcely feel as if I'm living. I don't feel as if I'm living unless I'm killing myself. Russell Hoban
pain moving talking
When all the archetypes burst out shamelessly, we plumb the depths of Homeric profundity. Two clichés make us laugh but a hundred clichés moves us because we sense dimly that the clichés are talking among themselves, celebrating a reunion. . . . Just as the extreme of pain meets sensual pleasure, and the extreme of perversion borders on mystical energy, so too the extreme of banality allows us to catch a glimpse of the Sublime. Umberto Eco
pain animal heaven
There is only one thing that arouses animals more than pleasure, and that is pain. Under torture you are as if under the dominion of those grasses that produce visions. Everything you have heard told, everything you have read returns to your mind, as if you were being transported, not toward heaven, but toward hell. Under torture you say not only what the inquisitor wants, but also what you imagine might please him, because a bond (this, truly, diabolical) is established between you and him. Umberto Eco
pain risk likes
There is also something exciting about the risk. Somewhere in me is a sadist that likes pain, I guess. Tyler Hilton
rain storms
It could come down all at once in the rain storms on Friday, who knows. David Robertson
rain rivers water
Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray... Richard Wilbur
rain fall winter
Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands, suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land. Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made blue for the sky and the color green that fills Your fields with praise. Rich Mullins
rainbow different six
Rainbow drops - suck them and you can spit in six different colours. Roald Dahl
rain years orange
Years go by Will I still be waiting For somebody else to understand Years go by If I'm stripped of my beauty And the orange clouds Raining in head Years go by Will I choke on my tears Till finally there is nothing left One more casualty You know we're too easy Easy Easy Tori Amos
rainbow lord
The Lord survives the rainbow of His will. Robert Lowell
rain ocean cutting
Nature is out there, and we can do what we like to it. We can cut down the rain forest. We can put animals in factory farms and slaughter them as we like. We can over-fish the oceans. We can pollute the rivers. We can pollute the water and change climate. We are somehow superior to nature. We are somehow rulers of nature. Satish Kumar
rain ocean grandmother
She wishes her grandmother had not been so protective, and that she understood better what passes between a man and woman. As it is, she simply enjoys the feelings and wonders if they are what lightning is made of, for everything comes back to the weather. Tears like rain. Smiles like the sun. Hair as dry as sand and fear like the dark ocean. Sara Sheridan
rain heart night
Oh to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests After its leaves are gone, Waiting no more for a rain at night Nor for the red at dawn. Sara Teasdale