Bones Quotes - Page 16

small talk comes from small bones

Ezra Pound

Small Talk

Ezra Pound, Richard Sieburth (2010). “New Selected Poems and Translations”, p.99, New Directions Publishing

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Each morning, before Jackie started her studies, she wrote on a clean piece of paper: Tarde venientibus ossa. To the latecomers are left the bones.

Junot Diaz

Morning, Pieces, Paper

Junot Diaz (2008). “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao”, p.219, Faber & Faber

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What you call your personality, you know? --it's not like actual bones, or teeth, something solid. It's more like a flame. A flame can be upright, and a flame can flicker in the wind, a flame can be extinguished so there's no sign of it, like it had never been.

Joyce Carol Oates

Flames, Wind, Personality

Joyce Carol Oates (2009). “I Am No One You Know: And Other Stories”, p.85, Zondervan

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Her face crashes. She hasn't dealt with a single transfusion or lumbar puncture. She wasn't allowed near me for the bone-marrow transplant, but she could have been there for any number of diagnoses, and wasn't. Even her promises to visit more often have faded away with Christmas. It's her turn to taste some reality.

Jenny Downham

Reality, Numbers, Promise

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Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence.

Haruki Murakami

Body, Absence, Feels

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He stood up straight and looked the world squarely in the fields and hills. To add weight to his words he stuck the rabbit bone in his hair. He spread his arm out wide. "I will go mad!" he annouced.

Douglas Adams

Hair, Mad, Arms

Douglas Adams (2012). “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: The Trilogy of Five”, p.326, Pan Macmillan

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The huge round lunar clock was a gristmill. Shake down all the grains of Time—the big grains of centuries, and the small grains of years, and the tiny grains of hours and minutes—and the clock pulverized them, slid Time silently out in all directions in a fine pollen, carried by cold winds to blanket the town like dust, everywhere. Spores from that clock lodged in your flesh to wrinkle it, to grow bones to monstrous size, to burst feet from shoes like turnips. Oh, how that great machine…dispensed Time in blowing weathers.

Ray Bradbury

Feet, Wrinkles, Dust

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he dared to explore her withered neck w/his fingertips…her hips w/their decaying bones, her thighs with their aging veins.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Lust, Veins, Hips

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Stick a shovel into the ground almost anywhere and some horrible thing or other will come to light. Good for trade, we thrive on bones; without them there'd be no stories.

Margaret Atwood

Light, Stories, Sticks

Margaret Atwood (2007). “The Blind Assassin: A Novel”, p.11, Anchor

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Hy gododin catann hue Hud a lledrith mal wyddan Gaunce ae bellawn wen cabri Varigal don Fincayra Dravia, dravia Fincayra (Talking trees and walking stones, Giants aare the island's bones. While this land our dance still knows, Varigal crowns Fincayra. Live long, live long Fincayra.

T.A. Barron

Islands, Talking, Long

T. A. Barron (2011). “The Seven Songs”, p.187, Penguin

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I will be thin and pure like a glass cup. Empty. Pure as light. Music. I move my hands over my body - my shoulders, my collarbone, my rib cage, my hip bones like part of an animal skull, my small thighs. In the mirror my face is pale and my eyes look bruised. My hair is pale and thin and the light comes through. I could be a lot younger than seventeen. I could be a child still, untouched.

Francesca Lia Block

Children, Moving, Eye

Francesca Lia Block (2009). “The Hanged Man”, p.14, Harper Collins

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When they made love Geryon liked to touch in slow succession each of the bones of Herakles' back as it arched away from him into who knows what dark dream of its own, running both hands all the way down from the base of the neck to the end of the spine which he can cause to shiver like a root in the rain.

Anne Carson

Running, Dream, Rain

Anne Carson (1998). “Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse”, Knopf

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It's Nathaniel Hawthorne Month in English. Poor Nathaniel. Does he know what they've done to him? We're reading The Scarlet Letter one sentence at a time, tearing it up and chewing on its bones. It's all about SYMBOLISM, says Hairwoman. Every word chosen by Nathaniel, every comma, every paragraph break -- these were all done on purpose. To get a decent grade in her class, we have to figure out what he was really trying to say. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? Would they pin scarlet letters on his chest? B for blunt, S for straightforward?

Laurie Halse Anderson

Reading, Class, Symbolism

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That's all I've ever dreamed of, Mr. Bones. To make the world a better place. To bring some beauty to the drab humdrum corners of the soul. You can do it with a toaster, you can do it with a poem, you can do it by reaching out your hand to a stranger. It doesn't matter what form it takes. To leave the world a little better than you found it. That's the best a man can ever do.

Paul Auster

Men, Hands, Soul

Paul Auster (2008). “Collected Novels”

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Smiley Bone: You can't feel safe unless there's something to be safe against! Phoney Bone: Exactly! People like to be victims! There's a certain unassailable moral superiority about it.

Jeff Smith

People, Safe, Moral

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Grace. I held on to that name. If I kept that in my head, I would be OK. Grace. I was shaking, shaking; my skin peeling away. Grace. My bones squeezed, pinched, pressed against my muscles. Grace. Her eyes held me even after I stopped feeling her fingers gripping my arms. Sam," she said. "Don't go.

Maggie Stiefvater

Eye, Names, Grace

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Soul Alone by Hannah Baker I meet your eyes you don't even see me You hardly respond when I whisper hello Could be my soul mate two kindred spirits Maybe we're not I guess we'll never know My own mother you carried me in you Now you see nothing but what I wear People ask you how I'm doing You smile and nod don't let it end there Put me underneath God's sky and know me don't just see me with your eyes Take away this mask of flesh and bone and See me for my soul alone

Jay Asher

Mother, Eye, Sky

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Water and stone Flesh and bone Night and morn Rose and thorn Tree and wind Heart and mind

Juliet Marillier

Heart, Night, Wind

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She was my mother. I couldn't threaten to slap, stab, beat or even name call her. I tried to think of something to scare her into never mentioning the predicament with the Dreamsnatcher again. I'll become a swinger," I said. her eyes bugged. Uptight rearing made her uncomfortable with alternate lifestyles. "That's right. threesomes, foursomes, and more. bones knows about a thousand chicks who'd love to hop into bed with us. It'll be kinky, we'll get out freak on.-

Jeaniene Frost

Mother, Eye, Thinking

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Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.

Sylvia Plath

Love Is, Curse

Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, Faber & Faber

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I am talking about ultimate deceit. I am talking about unparalleled treachery. Bottomless lies. Depths that are seen that are previously unimaginable. Darkness and shattering despair that could break bones. Paranoia and horror that could stop the heart cold. All inflicted on one's self by one's self. The soul turns schizophrenic and goes hopelessly insane.

Henry Rollins

Lying, Heart, Self

Henry Rollins (1992). “Art to choke hearts ; & Pissing in the gene pool: collected writing 1985-1987”, 2 13 61

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And there is my payment the rubies in your cheeks. Are you properly scandalized by your wicked behavior? If you were Catholic, you'd singe the ears of the priest you confessed to. Do you remember making me swear to repeat all those naughty actions agian, no matter what you said this morning?" Now that he brought it up, I did recall saying that. Great Betrayed by my own immorality. "God, Bones...some of that was depraved." "I'll take that as a compliment." He closed the distance between us."I love you. Don't be ashamed of anything we did, even if your prudery is on life support.

Jeaniene Frost

Morning, Distance, Love You

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Ghost of Bobby: no, no you can't eat me. I'm a ghost. Stephen Colbert: That just means that there's less bones to pick out.

Stephen Colbert

Mean, Ghost, Picks

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Even more, I had never meant to love him. One thing I truly knew - knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest - was how love gave someone the power to break you

Stephenie Meyer

Love, Broken Heart, Twilight

Stephenie Meyer (2009). “New Moon”, p.127, Hachette UK

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If they'd been dogs, they would have all been in the yard eating grass and trying to yak up whatever was making them feel so lousy. Not a bone gnawed, not a ball chased-all tails went unwagged. Oh, life is a fast cat, a short leash, a flea in that place where you just can't scratch.

Christopher Moore

Dog, Cat, Trying

Christopher Moore (2009). “The Lust Lizard Of Melancholy Cove: Book 2: Pine Cove Series”, p.44, Hachette UK

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