Bones Quotes - Page 25

• Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire

  Theodore Roethke

  Pain, Fire, Lost

  Theodore Roethke (2011). “The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke”, p.352, Anchor

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• The hand of bone and sinew and flesh achieves its immortality in taking up a pen. The hand on a page wields a greater power than the fleshly hand ever could in life.

  Laurie R. King

  Hands, Flesh, Pages

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• What most people call loving consists of picking out a woman and marrying her. They pick her out, I swear, I’ve seen them. As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. They probably say that they pick her out because-they-love-her, I think it’s just the siteoppo. Beatrice wasn’t picked out, Juliet wasn’t picked out. You don’t pick out the rain that soaks you to a skin when you come out of a concert.

  Julio Cortazar

  Life, Rain, Thinking

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• It is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall -- all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him.

  Bram Stoker

  Kings, Fall, Heart

  Bram Stoker (2016). “Dracula (Fidia Classics)”, p.171, Bram Stoker

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• Not for a minute did I believe that this wasn’t goodbye. Still, I had loved and been loved in return, and there was nothing greater than that. It far outweighed the alienation of all the previous years. Bones thought five months was too short; I was amazed I’d been granted joy for so long. “I love you,” he moaned, or maybe I said it. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The lines had dissolved between us.

  Jeaniene Frost

  I Love You, Goodbye, Believe

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• Bones,” I sighed. “Know something? I’m not afraid of you, but you scare me….” His outline blurred again. “You scare me, too, Kitten,” he might have replied, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Scare, Might, Kitten

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• What I wanted to do was to fasten my index finger and thumb at the bolts of your collar bone, push out, spread the web of my hand until it caught against your throat. You asked me if I wanted to strangle you. No, I wanted to fit you, not just in the obvious ways but in so many indentations.

  Jeanette Winterson

  Hands, Thumbs, Way

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• Hey now, none of that. You know I don't have one evil bone in my body. Only two hundred and six of them?

  Becca Fitzpatrick

  Two, Evil, Hey

  Becca Fitzpatrick (2011). “Silence”, p.138, Simon and Schuster

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• Explore me' you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.

  Jeanette Winterson

  Wall, Home, Thinking

  Jeanette Winterson (2013). “Written On The Body”, p.120, Random House

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• I say what other people only think, and when all the rest of the world is in a conspiracy to accept the mask for the true face, mine is the rash hand that tears off the plump pasteboard and shows the bare bones beneath.

  Wilkie Collins

  Thinking, Hands, People

  Wilkie Collins (2015). “Greatest Mystery Novels of Wilkie Collins”, p.176, e-artnow sro

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• But I'm not afraid of the skeletons in Julie's closet. I look forward to meeting the rest of them, looking them hard in the eye, giving them firm, bone-crunching handshakes.

  Isaac Marion

  Eye, Skeletons, Giving

  Isaac Marion (2016). “Warm Bodies and The New Hunger: A Special 5th Anniversary Edition”, p.161, Simon and Schuster

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• When you peeled back the skin, you were dealing with bone and muscle, blood and nerve endings. It was all the same. She liked the beautiful logic of the circulatory system, the elegance of the neurological, and the fierce warrior spirit of the heart. The body had rules and it had quirks.

  Libba Bray

  Beautiful, Heart, Warrior

  Libba Bray (2011). “Beauty Queens”, p.217, Scholastic Inc.

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• The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

  Andrea Gibson

  Grief, Writing, Want

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• Our words had to be circumspect. We could not write anything too negative about our circumstances. This was tricky, since the very form of a married woman's letter needed to include the usual complaints -- that we were pathetic, powerless, worked to the bone, homesick, and sad. We were supposed to speak directly about our feelings without appearing ungrateful, no-account, or unfilial.

  Lisa See

  Writing, Ungrateful, Feelings

  Lisa See (2011). “Snow Flower and the Secret Fan”, p.197, A&C Black

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• We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing. It might be a thousand years. At present nothing is possible except to extend the area of sanity little by little. We cannot act collectively. We can only spread our knowledge outwards from individual to individual, generation after generation. In the face of the Thought Police there is no other way.

  George Orwell

  Dust, Years, Knowing

  George Orwell (2003). “Nineteen Eighty-four”, Penguin Mass Market

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• Before we met, I'd fly for hours to clear my head," Bones said, his voice reaching me even over the rush of wind. "It was the closest I came to finding peace, but though several of my mates could fly, I always went alone. I never wanted to share this with anyone until you.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Wind, Voice, Finding Peace

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• He could feel it immediately when his shoulder snapped - the intense pain of his bones cracking. His skin tightened, as if it could no long hold whatever was lurking inside him. The breath was sucked from his lungs like he was being crushed. His vision began to blur, and he had the sensation he was falling, even though he could feel the rock tearing at his flesh as his body seized on the ground.

  Kami Garcia

  Pain, Fall, Rocks

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• As one old gentleman put it, " Son, I don't care if you're stark nekkid and wear a bone in your nose. If you kin fiddle, you're all right with me. It's the music we make that counts.

  Robert Fulghum

  Son, Gentleman, Noses

  Robert Fulghum (2004). “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things”, p.90, Ballantine Books

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• I eat only white foods: eggs, sugar, grated bones, the fat of dead animals; veal, salt, coconut, chicken cooked in white water; fruit mold, rice, turnips; camphorated sausage, dough, cheese (white), cotton salad, and certain fish (skinless).

  Erik Satie

  Animal, Eggs, White

  "Erik Satie". Book by Rollo H. Myers, New York: Dover, p.135, 1968.

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• If you died it would be like my bones had been removed. No one would know why, but I would collapse.

  Sarah Kane

  Would Be, Collapse, Died

  Sarah Kane (1998). “Crave”, Bloomsbury Methuen Drama

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• I remember every single spot of light that ever gouged a shadow beside your bones.

  Zelda Fitzgerald

  Light, Shadow, Remember

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• Who wants a bag of bones?” he said, with absolute sincerity. “I don’t want to hurt myself on the sharp edges of the woman I’m bedding.

  Charlaine Harris

  Hurt, Bags, Want

  Charlaine Harris (2010). “Dead in the Family: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel”, p.146, Penguin

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• Doreen had intuition. Everything she said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of my own bones.

  Sylvia Plath

  Voice, Secret, Intuition

  Sylvia Plath (2016). “The Bell Jar”, p.6, Hamilton Books

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• Dovewing felt bone-weary from her ears to the tip of her tail. Just because she had better hearing, sharper senses than any cat didn't seem to give her more strength. She needed to rest, eat, talk with Jayfeather and Lionblaze about the challenge that sol had left them with, of hostile Clans that would be crushed by the dark forest if they tried to fight alone. Starclan, light my path, please. "Come on," she meowed to Hollyleaf. "It's time we went home. Our Clnmates are waitning for us P. 315

  Erin Hunter

  Cat, Home, Fighting

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• Where the shadow of the bridge fell I could see down for a long way, but not as far as the bottom. When you leave a leaf in water a long time after awhile the tissue will be gone and the delicate fibres waving slow as the motion of sleep. They don't touch one another, no matter how knotted up they once were, no matter how close they lay once to the bones.

  William Faulkner

  Sleep, Bridges, Long

  William Faulkner (1946). “The Sound and the Fury: And As I Lay Dying”, New York : The Modern library

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