#hells

Life is brutally short, and there's only one go at it. We don't go for the old myths about helping somebody as we travel along life's path or our living will have been in vain. It's for now. Not tomorrow. But now. ↗

— Mick Norman

#life #life-and-living #pg- #life

And then, some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense—no—but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor. Perhaps a channeled whelk, a moon shell, or even an argonaut. ↗

— Anne Morrow Lindbergh

#beach #chance #shells #waking-life #life

Music takes me to places of illimitable sensual and insensate joy, accessing points of ecstasy that no angelic lover could ever locate, or plunging me into gibbering weeping hells of pain that no torturer could ever devise". ↗

— Stephen Fry

#hells #moab #music #pain #stephen-fry

One of the worst incidents of that era caused no complaints at all: this was a sort of good-natured firepower demonstration, which occured one Sunday morning about three-thirty. For reasons that were never made clear, I blew out my back windows with five blasts of a 12 gauge shotgun, followed moments later by six rounds from a .44 Magnum. It was a prolonged outburst of heavy firing, drunken laughter, and crashing glass. Yet the neighbors reacted with total silence. For a while I assumed that some freakish wind pocket had absorbed all the noise and carried it out to sea, but after my eviction I learned otherwise. Every one of the shots had been duly recorded on the gossip log. Another tenant in the building told me the landlord was convinced, by all the tales he'd heard, that the interior of my apartment was reduced to rubble by orgies, brawls, fires, and wanton shooting. He had even heard stories about motorcycles being driven in and out the front door. ↗

— Hunter S. Thompson

#hunter-s-thompson #nature

Resignation is what kills people. Once they've rejected resignation, humans gain the privilege of making humanity their footpath. ↗

— Kohta Hirano

#anime #giving-up #hellsing #humanity #immortality

The trouble with Germans is not that they fire shells, but that they engrave them with quotations from Kant. ↗

— Karl Kraus

#germans #kant #quotations #shells #them

It is absolutely true in war, were other things equal, that numbers, whether men, shells, bombs, etc., would be supreme. Yet it is also absolutely true that other things are never equal and can never be equal. ↗

— J. F. C. Fuller

#also #bombs #equal #etc #men

From each one of them rose separate columns of smoke, meeting in a pall overhead, and through the smoke came stabbing flashes of fire as German shells burst with thudding shocks of sound. This was the front line of battle. ↗

— Philip Gibbs

#burst #came #columns #each #fire

Aref knelt, reached into his pocket and produced an implement made from a small stick which he called his miswak, the use of which he silently illustrated before handing her his spare. He also gave her a clean cloth and a bowl of the freshly collected water. She was directed to soften the dry stick in the water, then copy him by cleaning her mouth, using the miswak like a toothbrush. Gazing at the blood on the cloth, then down at the clothing the native had placed over her legs, soldier Freeman sighed. Aref watched and waited and then, sitting back on his haunches, showed her too that she must rub her feet and calves to stimulate the circulation. She copied him again, sliding her hands across the tops of her ankles and flexing her toes. Glad that she had followed his direction for once, Aref took a more relaxed break, sitting away from her and taking out his carving tools. He whetted his utility knife with the small stone he carried, studying the soldier’s reaction closely from afar. Instantly, he sensed her distrust. She stared at the knife in his hands, as if he might use it against her, but he continued working peacefully, then slid the implements back into his pockets and loaded his miswak onto the belt at his hips, wondering, with the gentle sarcasm his friends had so appreciated in him, how much of his adult life it could conceivably take to prove to this woman he was worthy. ↗

— Amaya Ellman

#broken-shells #conflict #fiction #freedom #friendship

So it just goes to show you that it was always the Hells Angels first. They were the originals and all other clubs try and imitate what the Hells Angels have already done. ↗

— Chuck Zito

#always #angels #clubs #done #first