#sentence

Feast or famine. My plate is suddenly full. ↗

— David Wong Louie

#food #food

The truly revolutionary promise of our nation's founding document is the freedom to pursue happiness-with-a-capital-H. ↗

— Dan Savage

#happiness #politics #freedom

I was condemned to be beheaded, or burnt, as the king pleased; and he was graciously pleased, from the great remains of his love, to choose the mildest sentence. ↗

— Sarah Fielding

#burnt #choose #condemned #graciously #great

I was court-martial in my absence, and sentenced to death in my absence, so I said they could shoot me in my absence. ↗

— Thomas Hardy

#could #death #i #me #said

We are all serving a life sentence, and good behavior is our only hope for a pardon. ↗

— Douglas Horton

#good #good behavior #hope #life #only

An ash-gray dog with a white blaze on its forehead burst onto the rough terrain of the market on the first Sunday in December, knocked down tables of fried food, overturned Indians' stalls and lottery kiosks, and bit four people who happened to cross its path. ↗

— Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

#food

To have the truth in your possession you can be found guilty, sentenced to death. ↗

— Peter Tosh

#found #guilty #possession #sentenced #truth

I was told to challenge every spiritual teacher, every world leader to utter the one sentence that no religion, no political party, and no nation on the face of the earth will dare utter: 'Ours is not a better way, ours is merely another way. ↗

— Neale Donald Walsch

#another way #better #better way #challenge #dare

When people start writing there is this idea that you have to get everything right first time, every sentence has to be perfect, every paragraph has to be perfect, every chapter has to be perfect, but what you're doing is not any kind of public show, until you're ready for it. ↗

— Irvine Welsh

#chapter #doing #every #everything #first

Deep down, Story Easton knew what would happen if she attempted to off herself—she would fail It was a matter of probability. This was not a new thing, failure. She was, had always been, a failure of fairy-tale proportion. Quitting wasn’t Story’s problem. She had tried, really tried, lots of things during different stages of her life—Girl Scours, the viola, gardening, Tommy Andres from senior year American Lit—but zero cookie sales, four broken strings, two withered azalea bushes, and one uniquely humiliating breakup later, Story still had not tasted success, and with a shriveled-up writing career as her latest disappointment, she realized no magic slippers or fairy dust was going to rescue her from her Anti-Midas Touch. No Happily Ever After was coming. So she had learned to find a certain comfort in failure. In addition to her own screw-ups, others’ mistakes became cozy blankets to cuddle, and she snuggled up to famous failures like most people embrace triumph. The Battle of Little Bighorn—a thing of beauty. The Bay of Pigs—delicious debacle. The Y2K Bug—gorgeously disappointing fuck-up. Geraldo’s anti-climactic Al Capone exhumation—oops! Jaws III—heaven on film. Tattooed eyeliner—eyelids everywhere, revolting. Really revolting. Fat-free potato chips—good Lord, makes anyone feel successful. ↗

— Elizabeth Leiknes

#first-sentence #humor #beauty