Dripping Quotes - Page 3

• Like running the hurdles. Work so hard, jump over every one, fast, high enough but no higher, because you can't afford to hang in the air. And then, when the race is over, you're dripping with sweat, either they beat you or you beat them ... and then a couple of guys come out and move the hurdles out of the way. Turns out they were nothing. All that work to jump over them, but now they're gone.

  Orson Scott Card

  Running, Couple, Moving

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• The Cinderella of the church today is the prayer meeting.  This handmaid of the Lord is unloved and unwooed because she is not dripping with the pearls of intellectualism, nor glamorous with the silks of philosophy; neither is she enchanting with the tiara of psychology.  She wears the homespuns of sincerity and humility and so is not afraid to kneel!

  Leonard Ravenhill

  Prayer, Philosophy, Humility

  Leonard Ravenhill (2004). “Why Revival Tarries”, p.19, Bethany House

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• Yes, this is what I thought adulthood would be, a kind of long indian summer, a state of tranquility, of calm incuriousness, with nothing left of the barely bearable raw immediacy of childhood, all the things solved that had puzzled me when I was small, all mysteries settled, all questions answered, and the moments dripping away, unnoticed almost, drip by golden drip, toward the final, almost unnoticed, quietus.

  John Banville

  Summer, Long, Childhood

  John Banville (2008). “The Sea”, p.94, Pan Macmillan

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• No place is safe - no place is at peace. There is no place where a women and her daughter can hide and be at peace. The war comes through the air, bombs drop in the night. Quiet people go out in the morning, and see air-fleets passing overhead - dripping death - dripping death!

  H. G. Wells

  Daughter, Morning, Quiet People

  H. G. Wells (2015). “Delphi Complete Works of H. G. Wells”, p.2393, Delphi Classics

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• Your grandpa was a boxer in his youth. Sexiest thing I'd ever seen, let me tell you. He wore these short little shorts, and sweat was always dripping down his hairy chest.

  Gena Showalter

  Sweat, Grandpa, Boxers

  "Alice in Zombieland". Book by Gena Showalter, 2012.

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• I know you love her. I’ve never seen you act this crazed in your life. I get that. But Nan hates her. If you love Blaire then protect her from the venom that is dripping from your sister’s fangs. Or I will.

  Abbi Glines

  Hate, Nans, Protect

  Abbi Glines (2014). “The Rosemary Beach Collection: Rush and Blaire: Fallen Too Far, Never Too Far, and Forever Too Far”, p.253, Simon and Schuster

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• If there are words and wrongs like knives, whose deep inflicted lacerations never heal - cutting injuries and insults of serrated and poison-dripping edge - so, too, there are consolations of tone too fine for the ear not fondly and for ever to retain their echo: caressing kindnesses - loved, lingered over through a whole life, recalled with unfaded tenderness, and answering the call with undimmed shine, out of that raven cloud foreshadowing Death himself.

  Charlotte Bronte

  Kindness, Cutting, Clouds

  Charlotte Bronte (2009). “Villette”, p.475, The Floating Press

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• My love, do you recall the object which we saw, That fair, sweet, summer morn! At a turn in the path a foul carcass On a gravel strewn bed, Its legs raised in the air, like a lustful woman, Burning and dripping with poisons, Displayed in a shameless, nonchalant way Its belly, swollen with gases.

  Charles Baudelaire

  Summer, Sweet, Air

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• in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

  Allen Ginsberg

  Dream, Night, Journey

  Allen Ginsberg (2001). “Howl and Other Poems: Pocket Poets Number 4”, p.26, City Lights Publishers

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• 2 p.m. beer nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses die and the landladies stare in the halls; brisk the music of pulled shades, a last man's cave in an eternity of swarm and explosion; nothing but the dripping sink, the empty bottle, euphoria, youth fenced in, stabbed and shaven, taught words propped up to die.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dream, Horse, Beer

  Charles Bukowski (2009). “Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame”, p.26, Harper Collins

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• It was the month of May and there was warm sunshine dripping through the holes between the clouds, like the sky was a broken blue bowl and a child was trying to keep honey in it.

  Chris Cleave

  Children, Sunshine, Clouds

  Chris Cleave (2010). “Little Bee: A Novel”, p.52, Simon and Schuster

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• Pain! Deep, tearing, throbbing, needle-sharp, hammer-blunt pain – ripping through his body and through his mind, twisting deep in his guts and slicing at his skin with razors and broken glass. Oskan wanted to scream, but his vocal cords had burned away. He was desperate for water and he could hear it dripping all around him, but his charred tongue found nothing in his mouth but blisters and scorched flesh. For hours he lay on the ropes of the low bed, unable to move, the pressure of the hemp on his destroyed skin sending new agonies deep into his body.

  Stuart Hill

  Pain, Moving, Glasses

  Stuart Hill (2011). “The Icemark Chronicles #1: Cry of the Icemark”, p.352, Scholastic Inc.

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• A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path, for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.

  Rudyard Kipling

  Elephants, Voice, Light

  Rudyard Kipling (2016). “Collected Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated Edition): 5 Novels & 350+ Short Stories, Poetry, Historical Military Works and Autobiographical Writings from one of the most popular writers in England, known for The Jungle Book, Kim, The Man Who Would Be King”, p.1920, e-artnow (Open Publishing)

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• You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Life, Spring, Eye

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.434, e-artnow

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• Yes, you make yourself useful, angel boy. Meanwhile, I’ll be in the bathroom.” William’s jet-black hair was dripping wet and plastered to his face. There was a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, displaying muscles that rivaled Paris’s own, and a tattooed treasure map that led to his man junk. Looking at his, you could see the makings of a temper so savage anyone who miraculously survived an encounter with him would end up needing therapy. And diapers. “I’ve got to finish deep conditioning my hair.” Or maybe not so savage.

  Gena Showalter

  Angel, Boys, Men

  Gena Showalter (2014). “Lords of the Underworld Collection 3: The Darkest Secret\The Darkest Surrender\The Darkest Seduction”, p.1075, Harlequin

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• … it was raining on Himmel Street when the world ended for Liesel Meminger. The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn’t quite managed.

  Markus Zusak

  Children, Rain, Sky

  Markus Zusak (2013). “The Book Thief: Enhanced Movie Tie-in Edition”, p.497, RH Childrens Books

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• The air was cold to the lungs, the long grass dripping wet, and the herbs on it gave out their spiced astringent scent. In a little while on all sides the Cicada would begin to sing. The grass was me , and the air, the distant invisible mountains were me, the tired oxen were me. I breathed with the slight night-wind in the thorn trees.

  Isak Dinesen

  Tired, Night, Long Grass

  Isak Dinesen (1938). “Out of Africa”

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• "I can talk to fish!" Angel said happily, water dripping off her long, skinny body. "Ask one over for dinner," Fang said, joining us.

  James Patterson

  Angel, Long, Water

  "Maximum Ride: School's Out Forever". Book by James Patterson, May, 2006.

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• My life was hurrying, racing tragically toward its end. And yet at the same time it was dripping so slowly, so very slowly now, hour by hour, minute by minute. One always has to wait until the sugar melts, the memory dies, the wound scars over, the sun sets, the unhappiness lifts and fades away.

  Simone de Beauvoir

  Memories, Waiting, Racing

  Simone De Beauvoir (2013). “The Woman Destroyed”, p.49, Pantheon

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• Water. Its sunny track in the plain; its splashing in the garden canal, the sound it makes when in its course it meets the mane ofthe grass; the diluted reflection of the sky together with the fleeting sight of the reeds; the Negresses fill their dripping gourds and their red clay containers; the song of the washerwomen; the gorged fields the tall crops ripening.

  Jacques Roumain

  Song, Nature, Garden

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• In Moscow, dim and green under the summer rain, columns of armour were waiting in the side-roads off the long avenue from Vnukovo airport. Tanks from the Taman Division stood beneath the dripping trees around Moscow University with their field kitchens and command trucks. This was not a new sight to me: the Soviet tanks had rested like that beneath the trees of the parks in Prague, late in another August twenty-three years before. Now they had invaded and crushed one more country -- their own.

  Neal Ascherson

  Summer, Country, Rain

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• The old men of the village of Mahotière say that the Mistress of the Water is a mulatto woman. At midnight she comes out of the spring and sings while combing her dripping long hair, which makes a sound sweeter than a violin. It is a song of perdition for whomever hears it. There is no sign of the Cross, no "Our Father" to save him. Her curse takes him like a fish in a net and the Mistress of the Water awaits him on the edge of the spring and smiles upon him and tells him to follow her to the depths, from which he will never return.

  Jacques Roumain

  Music, Song, Father

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• Do you know the feeling, when your heart is so hurt, that you could feel the blood dripping?

  Lady Gaga

  Love, Life, Happiness

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• So my life and the life of my family has been completely disrupted in absolutely every way. But it's been worth it. It's uncovered a vast cesspool of illegitimate economic and political power in which the Church is immersed right up to its ears, and I intend to dive in headfirst and pull it out of there dripping wet for all the world to see -- no matter how long it takes, no matter whose feet get stepped on in the process, no matter how much it costs, no matter how great the personal sacrifice.

  Madalyn Murray O'Hair

  Sacrifice, Feet, Long

  "Playboy Interview: Madalyn Murray". "Playboy" Magazine, October 1965.

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• To an artist, a picture is both a sum of ideas and a blurry memory of 'pushing paint,' breathing fumes, dripping oils and wiping brushes, smearing and diluting and mixing.

  James Elkins

  Memories, Artist, Breathing

  James Elkins (2004). “What Painting Is”, p.2, Routledge

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