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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #black
The Old Language really was beautiful, Blay thought. Staring at the symbols, for one brief, ridiculous moment he imagined his own name across Qhuinn's shoulders, carved into that smooth skin in the manner of the mating ritual. Never going to happen. They were destined to be best friends...which, compared to strangers, was something huge. Compared to lovers? It was the cold side of a locked door. ↗
#black-dagger-brotherhood #blay #qhuinn #qhuinn-and-blay #beauty
Pics or it didn't happen." "Dude, little busy for pics. You know, throwing flame. ↗
#black-dawn #flame-throwers #michael-glass #shane-collins #business
By this time the day had changed in a manner characteristic of the Black Country. I've told you already how in the early morning we got the impression that the sky had been washed by dew and all its impurities drained downward into the lower levels of the coal measures. One reason for this clearness was that the day before had been Sunday, and ninety percent of the smoke stacks were at rest. But all morning the chimneys of Dulston and Wolverbury and Darsall, and all the other congeries of red brick with uncouth names, had been disgorging their fumes of unconsumed carbon and sprays of steam, until a grayish yellow cloud hung over them. There wasn't a breath of wind that day; if it had been left to itself, the stuff would just have settled down on them like soup; but all the time fresh filth went on bubbling up from the bottom, so that the basin gradually filled, with the result that by midday its skimmings had reached the level of our sky. You couldn't see them, and yet they took every bit of colour out of the landscape, just as though we were looking through smoked glass. They were like a poison in our lungs; they made the air we breathed seem flat, devitalized, warm. We could taste their faint acridity with our tongues. All the time this thin, invisible poison came creeping up the slope of the hill. Evelyn spoke of it as a fog; we Londoners know the meaning of an honest fog; but this wasn't a fog, it was a blight. So we walked on through a landscape that was like a spoiled photgraphic plate. We followed the line of the Roman causeway between banks of rusty hazel. The surface of the road had been repaired by a dressing of slag that gave it a feeling of black sterility. The fields that we saw on either side of it, wherever the hedges straggled into gaps, had no greenness in them. They were dotted with mounds of ashes, on which no weeds would grow, and pits of dirty water. No trees but an occasional black and twisted hawthorn. In one field a huge circular boiler of a type that has long since been discarded lay on its side like a stranded buoy. No Man's Land with a vengeance! ↗
Long distance relationships through mobile communication generally becomes poor because of the weak signals and ends up due to jammed networks ↗
#long-distance-relationships #mobile #signals-blackout #communication
Our personal past is only available to us now through black-and-white film, it's a medium for communication with the dead, including our dead selves, the way we used to be, which is why we're drawn to it. ↗
#film #frank-lentricchia #past #the-sadness-of-antonioni #communication
Rehvenge, I’m talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.” “I thought your mother was dead.” “She is.” “You have a very low standard for communication. ↗
#black-dagger-brotherhood #humor #j-r-ward #rehvenge #communication
I fully recognize and appreciate the many substantial contributions of black Americans and other minorities to the creation and preservation and development of our great nation. ↗
#black #black americans #contributions #creation #development
