#bow

Love is like a unicorn with a rainbow for a horn. What I mean is it’s rare, and you’re lucky if you see it once, or at the most twice, in a given week.
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— Jarod Kintz

#love #luck #lucky #mythical #mythological

I shall ne'er chase rainbows again, Knowing no pot o' gold awaits at the end. My Irish treasure is not there. For ye, my love, abide with me here. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#love #pot-of-gold #rainbow #richelle #richelle-goodrich

It’s true—there are only, like, two songs about rainbows, including that one. He should be asking why there are so few songs about rainbows. ↗

— Cheryl Cory

#funny #humor #kermit #muppets #music

In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#music #rainbow #humor

I am a bowling alley celebrity. Women throw themselves at me. Sometimes other women (larger women) throw other women (smaller women) at me. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#funny #funny

Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange enchanted boy They say he wandered very far, very far Over land and sea A little shy And sad of eye But very wise Was he And then one day A magic day he passed my way And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings This he said to me “The greatest thing You’ll ever learn Is just to love And be loved In return ↗

— David Bowie

#moulin-rouge #love

What's he doing?" Bethany asked. "He's bowing.'Good day milday." Bethany giggled. "Crocodiles don't bow." "They should when they meet a princess. ↗

— Kerrelyn Sparks

#crocodiles #princess #love

Love is like a buffalo with butterfly wings, and I’m just the humble man in the jetpack trying to shoot it down with a bow and arrow.
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— Jarod Kintz

#bow #buffalo #butterfly #humble #humility

I am an expert swordsman. And I am skilled in the business of death. I take no pleasure in my skill. Simply, I am good at it. ↗

— Oliver Bowden

#haytham-kenway #kenway #oliver-bowden #business

The nights are filled with explosion and motor transport, and wind that brings them up over the downs a last smack of the sea. Day begins with a hot cup and a cigarette over a little table with a weak leg that Roger has repaired, provisionally, with brown twine. There's never much talk but touches and looks, smiles together, curses for parting. It is marginal, hungry, chilly - most times they're too paranoid to risk a fire - but it's something they want to keep, so much that to keep it they will take on more than propaganda has ever asked them for. They are in love. Fuck the war. ↗

— Thomas Pynchon

#love