Je ne crois que les histoires dont les te moins se feraient e gorger. I only believe in histories told by witnesses who would have had their throats slit.
I'm a winter girl. I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.
History, the winnowing wind, never halts. We see the chaff rise, forget the waiting grain, seed of the future, fallen to the threshing floor. We never learn, but live on, slit-narrow, as if our living were a pencil line traced upon paper, behaving as trapped denizens of a flat world hemmed in by the bigoted horizon of our own making. Yet the meaning of living is a pushing back, a pulling down of the great walls and domes of fear and ignorance, is relinquishing the nest for the sky, ignorance for understanding. The look back is also a look forward.
Time is the eternal now, seen through the narrow slit of the mind.
Slits in nothingness are not very easy to paint.
We were born ahead of our time. Don't forget that the riot-grrl scene had a lot to do with making The Slits a legend, and that didn't happen until the early '90s. We couldn't get together before then, because the legend hadn't been built yet. In the 2000s, we've become bigger than life in that way. It's become really important for The Slits to be here now, but idealistically, we should have done it in the '90s.
Music didn't really hit me again until the '90s, when the dancehall scene got going. The '90s were perfect for me. I would have really liked to have had The Slits out in the '90s again, to do tours and albums, because I think the '90s was a brilliant decade for music.
I watched all the Academy screeners and I wanted to slit my wrists. Whether they are good or not good, I don't know why you make Foxcatcher? I don't know why you do it. What is it giving anybody except to have Steve Carell put on a rubber nose?
Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
I don't need to push myself. I don't need to sharpen my own knife and slit my throat. I'm trying to chill it and find an equilibrium and a balance to my work.
I don't think we're totally responsible. But you know, all the bands said it, that we did. Even Courtney Love said that. Anyway, Courtney called her band Hole, get it? Slits? Hole? So it's pretty clear we were an influence on all of them, but I'm not really sure how far it goes. I was on a different planet at the time.
This [health care reform] cannot pass. What we have to do today is make a covenant, to slit our wrists, be blood brothers on this thing. This will not pass.
I’m going to make the wildly unfounded assumption that Satara’s dead by your hand and not Tory’s. Now, stay with me on this, Cajun. My father slit my throat and murdered my wife because he thought I’d betrayed him by getting married. Before that, he loved me more than his life and I was his last surviving child. His second in command. Now what do you think he’s going to do to you once he sees her body? I can assure you, it won’t be a fun-filled trip to Chuck E. Cheese. (Urian)
I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I'd be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we're going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.
The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops of rain caught on Rafe's eyelashes, blinding him as the circus light struck them. He groped for the flap, that slit in the fabric that would reveal her to him. She was on the rope again, her skirt flashing with tiny mirrors, hair braided with petals. He looked up at her, dizzy with it, seeing her face framed in the parasol. There were bluish shadows around her eyes.
Twenty aspirin, a little slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof: We've all had those. And somewhat more dangerous things, like putting a gun in your mouth. But you put it there, you taste it, it's cold and greasy, your finger is on the trigger, and you find that a whole world lies between this moment and the moment you've been planning, when you'll pull the trigger. That world defeats you. You put the gun back in the drawer. You'll have to find another way.
Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.
Then I break a glass and I slit my very innermost thigh so that I can pretend that I'm menstru--- well, unavailable.
Like all stories of creators who bring life from the dead, his story began with a struggling butcher, who chased a gray cat, caught it, took off its studded collar, and slit its throat.
Singing songs that make you slit your wrists
His eyes are wild, psychotic slits that bat-dance in your soul looking for good things to crush or bad elements to identify with.
How do you say 'bring me sausage and eggs or I'll slit your throat' in Italian?" "Look it up in the phrase book.
I've got a real sense of three-dimensional geometry. I can look at a flat piece of fabric and know that if I put a slit in it and make some fabric travel around a square, then when you lift it up it will drape in a certain way, and I can feel how that will happen.
That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. "Do something!" When I slit my wrists. "Help her!" The last time too. "Somebody help her. Help us!" You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.
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