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#ture

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ture




Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.


Anonymous


#love

Dear Literary World, Sorry for breaking down your door...I'll pay for that!!! Since I'm here and planning to stay a while, let me tell you some stories!!


C.K. Webb


#ck-webb #funny #humor #literature #stories

That quotation about not having time to stand and stare has never applied to me. I seem to have spent a good part of my life - probably too much - in just standing and staring and I was at it again this morning.


James Herriot


#beauty #hills #beauty

Once your past no longer has the power to define you, your future is, quite literally, yours for the taking. Every single beautiful thing you could possibly want or imagine will be yours.


Dan Pearce


#future #goals #our-pasts #overcoming-fear #past

I've always found exercise to be an awful hindrance to my well-being, and nature to have a stifling atmosphere. In combination they would be fatal. I do admit, though, that exercise is quite majestic when seen from a distance.


Bauvard


#funny #humor #nature #funny

When it begins it is like a light in a tunnel, a rush of steel and steam across a torn up life. It is a low rumble, an earthquake in the back of the mind. My spine is a track with cold black steel racing on it, a trail of steam and dust following behind, ghost like. It feels like my whole life is holding its breath. By the time she leaves the room I am surprised that she can’t see the train. It has jumped the track of my spine and landed in my mothers’ living room. A cold dark thing, black steel and redwood paneling. It is the old type, from the western movies I loved as a kid. He throws open the doors to the outside world, to the dark ocean. I feel a breeze tugging at me, a slender finger of wind that catches at my shirt. Pulling. Grabbing. I can feel the panic build in me, the need to scream or cry rising in my throat. And then I am out the door, running, tumbling down the steps falling out into the darkened world, falling out into the lifeless ocean. Out into the blackness. Out among the stars and shadows. And underneath my skin, in the back of my head and down the back of my spine I can feel the desperation and I can feel the noise. I can feel the deep and ancient ache of loudness that litters across my bones. It’s like an old lover, comfortable and well known, but unwelcome and inappropriate with her stories of our frolicking. And then she’s gone and the Conductor is closing the door. The darkness swells around us, enveloping us in a cocoon, pressing flat against the train like a storm. I wonder, what is this place? Those had been heady days, full and intense. It’s funny. I remember the problems, the confusions and the fears of life we all dealt with. But, that all seems to fade. It all seems to be replaced by images of the days when it was all just okay. We all had plans back then, patterns in which we expected the world to fit, how it was to be deciphered. Eventually you just can’t carry yourself any longer, can’t keep your eyelids open, and can’t focus on anything but the flickering light of the stars. Hours pass, at first slowly like a river and then all in a rush, a climax and I am home in the dorm, waking up to the ringing of the telephone. When she is gone the apartment is silent, empty, almost like a person sleeping, waiting to wake up. When she is gone, and I am alone, I curl up on the bed, wait for the house to eject me from its dying corpse. Crazy thoughts cross through my head, like slants of light in an attic. The Boston 395 rocks a bit, a creaking noise spilling in from the undercarriage. I have decided that whatever this place is, all these noises, sensations - all the train-ness of this place - is a fabrication. It lulls you into a sense of security, allows you to feel as if it’s a familiar place. But whatever it is, it’s not a train, or at least not just a train. The air, heightened, tense against the glass. I can hear the squeak of shoes on linoleum, I can hear the soft rattle of a dying man’s breathing. Men in white uniforms, sharp pressed lines, run past, rolling gurneys down florescent hallways.


Jason Derr


#literature #magical-realims #funny

HUGH: What I want to know is, where do the Aussies get off thinking they’re tougher than cowboys? JESSICA: Cowboys fight men with guns. Aussies fight nature with knives. HUGH: Nature can be killed, sister. That is the difference. Its landscapes are reduced to photographic reproductions every day and its laws are destined to become outmoded paradigms. But human nature is immutable.


Bauvard


#cowboys #funny #humor #nature #funny

Hardly anything is made of wood anymore. Nature has provided us with far more durable materials. Carpentry is as obsolete as rainforests.


Bauvard


#funny #humor #nature #rainforests #wood

He speaks in that strange sports talk, telling me about the start of the new season and asks if I follow baseball. No. I really don’t. He assures me if I stay in town long enough I will become a baseball fan. It’s a requirement of living in St. Louis. Everyone is a Cardinal’s fan. “Loyal,” he tells me. St. Louis is a loyal town.


Gwenn Wright


#cardinals #contemporary #gothic #historical-fiction #missouri

One second she’s all timid, and then reeoowr! Hellcat.


Carrie Butler


#crossover-fiction #mark-of-nexus #mature-ya #new-adult #paranormal






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