Choose language

Forgot your password?

Need a Spoofbox account? Create one for FREE!

No subscription or hidden extras

Login

#try

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #try




Surprised by joy- impatient as the Wind I turned to share the transport-- Oh! with whom But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind-- But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss? -- That thought's return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; That neither present time, nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.


William Wordsworth


#loss #poetry #faith

Making endings sound the same isn’t just bad poetry, it also slanders everyone with a superior posterior.


Bauvard


#funny #humor #poetry #funny

One must love God first, and only then can one love one's closest of kin and neighbors. We must not be idols to one another, for such is not the will of God.


Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica


#eastern-orthodoxy #family #god #idolatry #love

What could my mother be to yours? What kin is my father to yours anyway? And how did you and I meet ever? But in love our hearts have mingled like red earth and pouring rain.


Vikram Chandra


#kinship #love #poetry #family

This is my country, that is your country, these are the conceptions of narrow souls, to the liberal minded the whole world is a family


Virchand Raghavji Gandhi


#country #family #inpirational-quotes #liberal #motivational-quotes

Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring ,Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now, And deck thee with holly's sheen, That, when December blights thy brow, He still may leave thy garland green.


Emily Dickinson


#friendship

Money is a servant to politicians and the country. But, if the politicians and the country become the servant of the money, the politicians has failed.


Oliver Kemper


#country #money #politicians #politics #money

The war to preserve the privilege of mythmaking


Marvin Bell


#line #motivation #poetry #politics #prodigal

When there were no customers, he thought about geometry. He tried to perform the Pythagorean Theorem on the light fixture above him, given his estimate of its circumference, but he failed. He wanted to be good at math. But he just wasn’t. He wanted so badly for the math club to accept him, but to them he was a loser. During rush week they battered him blue with yard sticks; they tied him to a table naked and made him prove problems involving half circles before a huge swinging protractor cut him in half; they forced him to continually calculate the remaining volume of the kegs he had to drink, working it out by hand as he was held upside down. After he didn’t get in the club, they had started ganging up on him every day, sticking his head in the toilet and stealing his lunch money. Business was slow at the moment, and he thought about ending his life in the kitchen appliance aisle.


Benson Bruno


#geometry #math-club #rushing #business

You Don't Know What Love Is But you know how to raise it in me like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to wash off the sludge, the stench of our past. How to start clean. This love even sits up and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps. Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want to get into the fast car, one low to the ground, and drive to some cinderblock shithole in the desert where she can drink and get sick and then dance in nothing but her underwear. You know where she's headed, you know she'll wake up with an ache she can't locate and no money and a terrible thirst. So to hell with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt and your tongue down my throat like an oxygen tube. Cover me in black plastic. Let the mourners through.


Kim Addonizio


#poetry #food






back to top