My name is only an anagram of toilets.
All my life I have lied. I lied to escape, I lied to be loved, I lied for placement and power; I lied to lie. It was a way of living; lies are life's almost-anagram.
The truth is an anagram of an anagram.
I'd been painting rats for three years before someone said 'that's clever it's an anagram of art' and I had to pretend I'd known that all along.
This is one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.
Yeah, I've banged some female costars. I swore I'd never tell their names, so instead I'll present some anagrams: Sahar Clahke and Haether Gharam.
An anagram of Axl Rose is oral sex. Why do I know? Because when I'm not playing music I love solving erotic jumbles.
Silence ought also to be the core of each concert. Remember the anagram: listen = silent.
The body is like a sentence that invites us to rearrange it, so that its real meaning becomes clear through a series of endless anagrams.
But it's far too late for us; ring, hair, letters, photographs - all traces of our love will be scattered then, like an anagram.
We are all, Esme decides, just vessels through which identities pass: we are lent features, gestures, habits, then we hand them on. Nothing is our own. We begin in the world as anagrams of our antecedents.
Start dating someone who is funny, someone who has what in high school you called a "really great sense of humor" and what now your creative writing class calls "self-contempt giving rise to comic form." Write down all of his jokes, but don't tell him you are doing this. Make up anagrams of his old girlfriend's name and name all of your socially handicapped characters with them. Tell him his old girlfriend is in all of your stories and then watch how funny he can be, see what a really great sense of humor he can have.
Yes, okay, it's cool to be quirky, maybe, on the side. Do some puzzles, make puzzles, whatever, learn how to ride a unicycle. That's cool when it's on the side and you have a plan. What happens when you remove the plan? What you're left with is a guy who likes to do anagrams. And doesn't have a job... Sweet, that's a catch.
The bowed head, the buried face. She is silent, she will never speak, never forgive, never reach a hand, never leave this frozen present tense. All waits, suspended. Suspended the autumn trees, the autumn sky, anonymous people. A blackbird, poor fool, sings out of season from the willows by the lake. A flight of pigeons over the houses; fragments of freedom, hazard, an anagram made flesh. And somewhere the stinging smell of burning leaves.
This congestion in the post offices is due to what are technically known as "regulations" but what are really a series of acrostics and anagrams devised by some officials who got around a table one night and tried to be funny.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: