Dry Quotes - Page 11

• And sometimes, if I was really, really lucky, he’d smile at me. A real smile, too—not the dry one that accompanied the sarcasm we tossed around so often. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone—not to Lissa, not even to myself—but some days, I lived for those smiles.

  Richelle Mead

  Real, Sarcasm, Lucky

  Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.79, Penguin

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• I will not go on, I thought. I won't. I will throw my soul to the wind and blow into a thousand pieces. I will wash up on a shore somewhere like bleached and broken driftwood. I will dry out in the sun until I-and any gift I ever had-shrivel into the sand.

  Janette Rallison

  Blow, Wind, Broken

  Janette Rallison (2009). “Just One Wish”, p.149, Penguin

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• Man cries, his tears dry up and run out. So he becomes a devil, reduced to a monster.

  Kohta Hirano

  Running, Men, Dry Up

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• Through wind, and tempest, storm, and rain; The calm shall be buried inside of me; A warm stone, heavy and dry; The root, the source, a weapon against pain

  Lauren Oliver

  Pain, Rain, Wind

  Lauren Oliver (2015). “Delirium Trilogy: Delirium, Pandemonium, Requiem”, p.434, Hachette UK

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• A forest," William said, his expression distant. "Where the ground is dry soil and stone. Where tall trees grow and centuries of autumn carpet their roots. Where the wind smells of game and wildflowers." "Why, that was lovely, Lord Bill. Do you ever write poetry? Something for your blueblood lady?" "No." "She doesn't like poetry?" "Leave it." Hehe. "Oh, so you have a lady. How interes--

  Ilona Andrews

  Writing, Autumn, Expression

  Ilona Andrews (2010). “Bayou Moon”, p.55, Penguin

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• It's too early for there to be any coffee. I stare dully at the empty pot in the common room, while Sam picks up a jar of instant grounds. "Don't," I warn him. He scoops up a heaping spoonful and, heedlessly, shovels it into his mouth. It crunches horribly. Then his eyes go wide. "Dry," he croaks. "Tongue...shriveling." I shake my head, picking up the jar. "It's dehydrated. You're supposed to add water. Good thing you're mostly made of water." He tries to say something. Brown powder dusts his shirt. "Also," I tell him, "that's decaf.

  Holly Black

  Coffee, Eye, Dust

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• Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible she tells me, not like you think, all darkness and silence. There are windchimes and the smell of lemons, some days it rains, but more often the air is dry and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing.

  Dorianne Laux

  Girl, Sweet, Rain

  Dorianne Laux (2000). “Smoke: poems”, BOA Editions Ltd.

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• But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.

  Gregory Maguire

  Home, Eye, Filled Up

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• As a recluse I couldn't bear traffic. It had nothing to do with jealousy, I simply disliked people, crowds, anywhere, except at my readings. People diminished me, they sucked me dry.

  Charles Bukowski

  Reading, People, Crowds

  Charles Bukowski (2007). “Women”, Ecco

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• 17. Butterfly A butterfly fluttered its wings in a wind thick with the smell of seaweed. His dry lips felt the touch of the butterfly for the briefest instant, yet the wisp of wing dust still shone on his lips years later.

  Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

  Butterfly, Dust, Years

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• I'm glad I've been wrong enough to keep in practice. . . You can't avoid it, you've got to learn to handle it. If you only come face to face with your own mistakes once or twice in your life it's bound to be extra painful. I face mine every day--that way they ain't usually much worse than a dry shave.

  Larry McMurtry

  Mistake, Practice, Way

  Larry McMurtry (2010). “Lonesome Dove: A Novel”, p.633, Simon and Schuster

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• When you stand out there," John continues in a hoarse voice, "keep your chin up, all right? Don't let them get to you." "I won't." "Make them work for it. Punch someone if you have to." John gives me a sad, crooked smile. "You're a scary kid. So scare them. Okay? All the way until the end." For the first time in a long time, I feel like a little brother. I have to swallow hard to keep my eyes dry. "Okay," I whisper.

  Marie Lu

  Brother, Kids, Eye

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• It’s not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaning nothing. there’s no release, just gurus and self- appointed gods and hucksters. the more people say, the less there is to say. even the best books are dry sawdust.

  Charles Bukowski

  Book, Mean, Self

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• Jenks laughed, taking to the air and saying, “Give it up, FIB man. It’ll take more than you to get her out. Remember what Ivy and I did to your finest last spring? Add Rachel to that, and you can say your prayers.” From behind me came Edden’s dry “You think Ivy wants another stint as a candy striper?

  Kim Harrison

  Prayer, Spring, Men

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• Hark," he said, his tone very dry. "What stone through yonder window breaks?

  Sarah Rees Brennan

  Stones, Window, Break

  Sarah Rees Brennan (2012). “Unspoken”, p.66, Simon and Schuster

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• When you have too much faith in something, it's bound to hurt you. Too much faith in anything will suck you dry. In this way, all the world is a vampire.

  Poppy Z. Brite

  Hurt, Vampire, World

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• For the love of ammonites, man! That's just stupid. Why on earth would the Society need to protect unmarried women from bone-dry lectures regarding soil composition? Do your members find themselves whipped into some sort of dusty frenzy, from which no delicate lass would be safe?" Mr. Barrington tugged on his coat. "Sometimes the debate does get heated." Colin turned to her. "Min, Can I just hit him?" "I think that's a bad idea." "run him through with something sharp?

  Tessa Dare

  Running, Stupid, Men

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• Long ago Mars was an oasis of running water.Today the Martiansurfaceis a sterile,barren desert. Here on Earth, who knows what climactic knobs we unwittingly turn,which might one day render Earth as dry and lifeless as Mars. (From the cover of Old Poison by Joan Francis)

  Neil deGrasse Tyson

  Running, Oasis, Long Ago

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• This is the fear that made fish crawl out onto dry land and evolve lungs, the fear that teaches us to run, the fear that makes us bury our dead.

  John Green

  Running, Fear, Land

  John Green (2013). “Paper Towns”, p.140, A&C Black

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• Then she cried without tears, which is said to hurt even more like dry labor.

  Laura Esquivel

  Hurt, Tears, Said

  Laura Esquivel (2010). “Like Water For Chocolate”, p.31, Random House

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• Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still

  T. S. Eliot

  Air, Wings, Care

  "Ash-Wednesday" l. 34 (1930)

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• What do you plan to do in the land of the sleepers? You have been floating in a sea of solitude, and the sea has borne you up. At long last, are you ready for dry land? Are you ready to drag yourself ashore?

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  Sea, Land, Long

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• Mornings at Blackwater" For years, every morning, I drank from Blackwater Pond. It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt, the feet of ducks. And always it assuaged me from the dry bowl of the very far past. What I want to say is that the past is the past, and the present is what your life is, and you are capable of choosing what that will be, darling citizen. So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life.

  Mary Oliver

  Morning, Past, Years

  Mary Oliver (2008). “Red Bird: Poems”, p.57, Beacon Press

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• But now his dry and silent grieving for his lost wife must end, for there she stood, the fierce, recalcitrant, and fragile stranger, forever to be won again.

  Ursula K. Le Guin

  Grieving, Wife, Forever

  Ursula K. Le Guin (2008). “The Lathe Of Heaven: A Novel”, p.183, Simon and Schuster

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• 

  Scientists have invented a new strain of cannabis without the high. They celebrated with non-alcoholic beer and furious dry-humping.

  Stephen Colbert

  Beer, Marijuana, Scientist

  Twitter post from Jun 05, 2012

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