Quotes about bones

To greet each day ossifiedLike fossil remains forgotten beneath the feet of something more lively.

The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.

Those who die young, they are cheated,” she said. “Not cheated out of life, because life is a penance, but the young, they’re cheated because they don’t know it’s coming. They don’t have time to move closer, to return home. When you know you’re going to die, you try to be near the bones of your own people. You don’t even think you have bones when you’re young, even when you break them, you don’t believe you have them. But when you’re old, they start reminding you they’re there. They start turnin

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. (...) You don't pick out the rain that soaks you to the skin when you come out of a concert.

I clearly saw the skeleton underneathall this show of personalitywhat is left of a manand all his pride but bones?

Charles, mate, you fret too much. I'm a grown man, I am, and I can blood my handle.""Handle your blood?" Bones offered dryly.Ian grinned. "Exactly.

I'd rather have names to hurt me, than my bones broken with sticks and stones.

On the plains of hesitation bleach the bones of countless millions who, at the dawn of decision, sat down to wait, and waiting died

Sometimes my helpless blood runs numb and, if only for a second, I forget how frail bones can be.

Dancing to the sounds of trees and stones and slow minutes ticking in our hearts and bones.

Objects and ObjectivesTo contemplate LEGO. Many colours. Many shapes. Many inventive and useful shapes. Plastic. A versatile and practical substance. Symbolic of the resourcefulness of man. Oil taken from the depths of the very earth. Distillation of said raw material. Chemical processes. Pollution. Creating a product providing hours of constructive play. For children all over the world. Teaching our young. Through enjoyment. Preparing them for further resourcefulness. The progress of our kind.A

You’re not going to let her do this, are you?” Bones snorted. “Let her? Mate, if you think you can control a woman, you must be single—-and a thousand pounds says she beats your arse.

Bones didn’t share any of my qualms about suddenly holding an arm that wasn’t attached to a body anymore. He just grabbed the ghoul by his other arm and began thumping him over the head with the loose limb. I’d heard Bones threaten to beat someone with their own limb before, but I’d always assumed that was a figure of speech. Apparently not.

I doubt you’ve ever been forced to nonstop bang a woman hyped up on the undead voodoo version of Spanish fly, have you?”His chuckle was soft. “Can’t say that I have, Kitten.”“Yeah, well, consider me an original.”This time, when his lips brushed across my skin, it lasted more than a moment.“I always have.

He also deeply distrusts vampires, as you had guessed yourself,” Bones added. “Aside from that, all I heard was enough repetitions of ‘how many chucks could a woodchuck chuck’ to make me want to stake myself.

Kessa ran her fingers over her stomach. Flat. But was it flat enough? Not quite. She still had some way to go. Just to be safe, she told herself. Still, it was nice the way her pelvic bones rose like sharp hills on either side of her stomach. I love bones. Bones are beautiful.

We are only lightly covered with buttoned cloth; and beneath these pavements are shells, bones and silence.

The organism - there was no other thing she could think to call it - churned and moved as it propelled itself across the ground, the living bodies of animals briefly appearing before being submerged in a sea of bugs as others rose to the surface. And then there were the bones. At first she didn't quite understand what she was seeing. For a moment she believed that they were pieces of wood - limbs of trees picked up by the undulating mass - but when she saw the skull, its jaw hanging open in a si

I thought of the new stone, of my new wife, and of the newly buried white bones beneath us, and I felt that fate had made sport of us all.

It is better to have ten skeletons in your closet, than walk with no bones.

Each October I walk into the woodslooking for bones: rabbit skulls,a grackle spine, the pelvis of a deerwith the blood bleached out. What diedin the lush of roses and mintshines out from the tangle of twigsthat bind it to the placeof its last leaping. The living lackthat kind of clarity. In late April,when the water spreads out and outtill everything is lilies and seepage,there is only the mystery of tracks,a rustle receding in the many reeds.And so the bones accumulateacross my windowsill: the

Sweat seems to bleed / like pride from their bones.

-just on the verge ofbecoming a woman, and in these three years and almost five months, I'dreached maturity. I was older than the mountains outside. The wisdomof the attic was in my bones, etched on my brain, part of my flesh.

Across from her, Hunter devoured her meal even more completely than she had. Sinclair watched her sink sharp teeth into the chicken bone, heard it snap, then the soft grunt of satisfaction. She made soft sucking sounds then emptied her mouth of the tiny ground up remains on a corner of her dish. Hunter ate with rabbit-like intensity, biting and sucking and spitting in an even rhythm until all that was left on the plate was a small brown and beige pile of ground bones. She finally looked up and c

Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! It calls out to love in an attempt to save myself. I don’t want to be one of those people who live their lives with boils, septic wounds and broken bones bleeding inside.

Death and burial were a public spectacle. Shakespeare may have seen for himself the gravediggers at St Ann's, Soho, playing skittles with skulls and bones.

The plane banked, and he pressed his face against the cold window. The ocean tilted up to meet him, its dark surface studded with points of light that looked like constellations, fallen stars. The tourist sitting next to him asked him what they were. Nathan explained that the bright lights marked the boundaries of the ocean cemeteries. The lights that were fainter were memory buoys. They were the equivalent of tombstones on land: they marked the actual graves. While he was talking he noticed scr

You are a ghost. Filled with stardust, wearing the bones as the shield and the skin as the cape. Fighting every day and opening up for the new wounds in the hustle of hiding the old scars.

In the deepest places, where physical norms collapse under the crushing water, bodies still fall softly through the dark, days after their vessels have capsized. They decay on their long journey down. Nothing will hit the black sand at the bottom of the world but algae-covered bones.

Meltwater (from the book Blue Bridge)Up here. A faceLoses its linesI look to seeThe colour of your eyes …They have turnedTo water.I lean forwardTo catchThe scent of your hair –All I smell is heather.I touch your handAnd all I feel is earth and stones.There is nothing leftBut the hillside’s breastYour flesh and bonesHave vanished.

A sense of hopelessness had invaded his bones, as chill and as inescapable as the rain.

They buried him in dirt that smelled like broken batteries, and crouched in a fiberglass shed while the acid rain poured down to dissolve his flesh and bleach his bones.

You once told me you could stand many things.” My voice was raspy from all the emotions battering against those well-honed inner defenses.“So can I. I can stand whatever Apollyon dishes out, can take the bigotry from others over what I am, the freaky ghost juju from Marie, all thecraziness my mother can throw at me, and even the pain of my uncle dying. But the one thing that I would never, ever recover from would be losingyou. You made me promise before to go on if that happened, but Bones”—here

I’m a planner. I like to know what’s coming, that way I can figure out a way to deal with it.” He shot her a wink. “I wasna planned, and you handled that situation well.” It was a fact, but then again, who could ever prepare for a man like Dmitri?

We can choose not to remember this day, but bones have strong memories. And earth never forgets.

To love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be destroyed

Those minutiae calcify into the bones of our intimacy.

Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!

The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.

One thing at a time,' said the Boy. 'You must be patient. This is a day of hope and wild revenge. Do not interrupt me. I am a courier from another world. I bring you golden words.Listen!' said the Boy. 'Where I come from there is no more fear. But there is a roaring and a bellowing and a cracking of bones. And sometimes there is silence when, lolling on your thrones, your slaves adore you.

Stephen King have a lot of books about the writing not only "The Writting: Memoir and Craft", but and "Nightmares and Dreamscapes", however "Misery", also and "Bag of Bones" and even and others. Which is awesome, different perspectives for being a an writer.

The smog curled between the streetlamps and the spokes of the wrought iron framework. It seemed through your body and into your bones.

There's water in my bonesa ghost of a chance

What are you gonna help us with? That very tiny used condom?

Winston Gallagher!" I said, recognizing the first ghost I'de met. Then my eyes narrowed & I covered my hand in front of my crotch as I saw Winstons gaze fasten there next. "Don't even think about poltergeisting my panties again". "This is the sod? Come here you scurvy little--" "Bones don't!" I interrupted. He stopped, giving a last glare to him while mouthing YOU. ME. EXORCIST. before returning to my side.

The lustful glances thrown his way made me wish he wasn’t such a damned bowl of eye candy."- Cat re: Bones

Your mum pounced on her and started sucking away. Would’ve been arousing if not for all the screaming.”“Ian,” Bones drew out warningly.He grinned. “You’re right. I was aroused anyway.

We want your skull! Make no bones about it!

The sh*t's gonna splatter, start buggin, yo..."Mencheres to Cat

No one believes you’re serious until bodies start to fall. -Vlad

She led the way. Eyeless sockets of the dead seemed to stare at them as they passed. "These are cool," Dan decided. "Maybe I could-""No, Dan," Amy said. "You can't collect human bones.""Awww.

Bones has always been smart," I muttered. "His intelligence was just camouflaged under a mountain of p**sy."Cat

Don't care for her tongue, do you? How strange. I find it one of my favorite parts.Bones to Gregor

You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

Before we go, I gotta know: If mind-reading abilities are real, there's something else I wondered if fiction got right about vampires-""Ask me if I sparkle and I'll kill you where you stand," Bones cut him off with utmost seriousness.

He f**ks even better than he looks”, I settled on saying. Several heads turned. I didn’t care; I was pissed. “And that beautiful face is going to be clamped between my legs as soon as we get home, don’t you worry.

Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed,

I think this’ll definitely tide me over while we’re apart,”Bones laughed, dragging me into his arms with far more strength and quickness than was fair, considering I still had trouble making my limbs operate.“Oh, Kitten,” he murmured as his lips dragged down my throat. “You didn’t really think we were done, did you?

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 lov

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault.I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day,but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries o

Instead of blue skies and sunshine, there are grey clouds and endless rain that seeps into your bones, your soul.

Leaders let go of what they can't control. It's a matter of knowing the power of the muscles and bones in your neck so you can go for what it can carry

We almost made love with fire, fire in our eyes, fire in our souls, and even in our bones.

Everything I have become,everything I will ever accomplishcannot compare to my mostimpressive feat:I have loved youfiercelyand assiduouslywith the very marrowinside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to findyou there. So that when I die, they can open me upand see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart.So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemoratewho I wasnor what I did, but will read:“She loved.And loved. And loved.”And so, I smile now,because that is no small thing

She was every inch the skeletal goddess that had been promised by the bones of her feet.

See the world anew and write down the bones of it.

Wow. I didn't think I'd ever see you like that."Cam trembled; he couldn't help it. He felt like his body was not his own. "Like what?""So..." Sasha seemed to search for the right word. "Involved, maybe? On-screen, you all seem kinda cold. I guess I figured you'd done it all before." Cam took a moment to gather himself. A phrase came to him, and he allowed himself a wry grin. "It's not the same. That's work, even if it's one of my friends. This is real sex.

We’re pieces on a chessboard and we make our moves when it’s our turn. If we don’t, our decisions are made for us.

Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into a bottomless well, crossing your fingers and hoping that when you pull it out on its flimsy fishing wire it hasn't been gnawed to bones by the beasts below. Hoping you pull up anything at all.

Take off my clothes and there becomes a man. Take off my skin and there becomes my bones. Break all my bones and there becomes my heart. Smash my heart and there becomes my soul. And that you cannot take.

Sometimes,I doubt the courage My bones are made ofAnd then,A breath finds her way inAnd her way outThe half-way-almost-full moonSmiles down;My heart sighsAnd quietly whispers:I remember.

If I am to be a skeleton in a box buried deep into the ground, I pray you will be the dust that rests atop my bones.

In your hands I am no longer a pile of bones left behind to a world that moved on.

The desert and the ocean are realms of desolation on the surface.The desert is a place of bones, where the innards are turned out, to desiccate into dust.The ocean is a place of skin, rich outer membranes hiding thick juicy insides, laden with the soup of being.Inside out and outside in. These are worlds of things that implode or explode, and the only catalyst that determines the direction of eco-movement is the balance of water.Both worlds are deceptive, dangerous. Both, seething with hidden li

Raw anguish slithers through my brittle bones as the deathly call rots the air. Who murdered you old friend? The forest has no words to identify the hand, only erratic echo.

Music is a language that doesn’t speak in particular words. It speaks in emotions, and if it’s in the bones, it’s in the bones.

We are preaching hope, standing on the bones of the past.

Live, die, something else lives. The very soil humanity walks upon is built up from death. Digging into a flowerbed means digging into bones.

Bones are patient. Bones never tire nor do they run away. When you come upon a man who has been dead many years, his bones will still be lying there, in place, content, patiently waiting, but his flesh will have gotten up and left him. Water is like flesh. Water will not stand still. It is always off to somewhere else; restless, talkative, and curious. Even water in a covered jar will disappear in time. Flesh is water. Stones are like bones. Satisfied. Patient. Dependable. Tell me, then, Alobar,

poetrymelts my bones.enters my blood.and changesits composition.

Souls grow on bones but die beneath bankers' hours...

On building homes for fallen angels:When I was small - I sought a home,a place to go and rest my bones.Then founded something, of my own,I lived among the restless stones.If seeking leads you back to evil,what good is that, I asked a weevil.He said a home is what you make,it can't be real, if it is fake...And if you wait instead of seek,will you find love, or something bleak?I know (myself) for I have found,a beauty, hidden – in a sound.Waiting is boring.And so is exploring.A smile is sometimes

The future was chaos, war and blood and thirst, ending with everyone's bones bleached white in the desert. The sand would bury their buildings and bodies, and eventually it would be impossible to tell that anyone had lived in the desert at all.

I'd sit around dreaming that the boys I saw at shows or at work - the boys with silver earrings and big boots - would tell me I was beautiful, take me home and feed me Thai food or omelets and undress me and make love to me all night with the palm trees whispering windsongs about a tortured gleaming city and the moonlight like flame melting our candle bodies.

Cat, hmmm? From where I sit you look more like a Kitten."My head jerked around and I shot him an annoyed look. Oh, I was going to enjoy this, all right. "It's Cat," I repeated firmly. "Cat Raven.""Whatever you say, Kitten Tweedy.

...you don't care because you're all that and I'm just an artery in a dress.

I heard the car door shut and then Fabian's voice. "You won't believe what I found around the edge of your property," the ghost announced. "A cave with prehistoric painting inside it!" I rolled my eyes. That was the best tactic Fabian could come up with? This was a vampire he was trying to stall, not a paleontologist.

Is that a stake, Bones, or are you just happy with my new dress?”“In this case, it’s a stake. You could always feel around for something more, though. See what comes up.

Whatever would give you the idea that I'm her damn brother?

Why did you tell her I'm your boyfriend? Why doesn't she know about your real one? - TimmyHe's English! And Mom...Mom hates foreigners! - Cat

Bones just stared. "You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

There are boneswaiting for names in the graveyards.Even the sun above us is dying, onelanded repetition of light at a time.

Sometimes it can be as brutally overwhelming as a tidal wave flooding every orifice, the suffocation, the pressure, the immensity of this damnable depression like an ocean, unsurmountable. It swallows me whole and gnaws at my very bones. It floods me over and over, drowning me over and over... It is a torturous broken record player with a scratched disc on repeat, the wailing disrupting any possible good remaining after the tsunami. It wails and wails inside my ribcage and inside my skull. I can

i want the moon tattooed on my wristsmy grandmother keeps asking me to pray, i don’t have the heart to tell her that mypoems are the only God i have left in memy mother keeps leaving without saying goodbyei wish she’d let me cut my hair in the 7th grade,maybe i’d know how to deal with loss by nowi told myself i’d stop kissing boys who didn’t know my namei said, i’d stop picking at my bones like broken decorations,i’d quit with the smoking and the drunken poems, and when i said things like “my bo

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

I stood there feeling the lightness of my bones, knowing now this was not only lack of sleep that had transformed my bones into feathers, but my body's recognition that soon I would be leaving this place I had inhabited for one year, this place made entirely of grief.