Sometimes I feel like we are the same, but sometimes, like right now, I feel the separation between our personalities like I've just run into a wall.
You see, unlike most writers today, I do not use a computer. I write the old-fashioned way: on the walls of caves.
Plato said that we are trapped inside a cave and know the world only through the shadows it casts on the wall. The skull is our cave, and mental representations are the shadows.
When we concentrate on preaching what people WANT to hear we will only succeed in exciting their flash and depressing their spirit.
The Armenian language cannot be worn out; its boots are stone. Well, certainly, the thick-walled word, the layers of air in the semi-vowels.
There was a sound like a garbage bag of pudding dropped off a tall building onto a sidewalk. Robert had erupted, chunks slapping off the walls in every direction.
A great book allows me to leap over that wall: in a deep, significant conversation with another consciousness, I feel human and unalone.
At the witching hour, the city was totally silent. Only the wind of portent blew through the gathered council of whispering brick chimneys on the rooftops, delivering the hand that would write upon the wall.
The mind is a powerful thing. It can take you through walls.
If I had seen pictures of people eating each other on the wall, I would've told him I was into cannibalism.
Dry snow coming down in the hills. Magpies hair-triggered and thuggish in worn trees. A wall has started to fall in you, it will take years to land.
The terrible shock of his sentence had in some way broken that wall which separates us from the mystery of things beyond and which we call life.
There seemed to be no one in a position of power, from the Vatican to Wall Street, from Parliament to Scotland Yard to Fleet Street, who could think of anything better to do than abuse it....
Asides your power, passion and poise, what glues the posters of your impacts on memorial walls is how you treat those you need and those who need you.
Hey, I see people manacled to log walls all the time. You bet. It’s a popular sport in Bear Flat. Gonna replace fishing soon.
I lacked the knowledge of linear perspective needed to get into the art school, so now I whitewash walls and imagine I’m heaven’s landscape painter.
I am an Ultimate,” she vowed, the walls of her heart quaking with ferocity and determination. “And I have the power to do the impossible.
There might be bits and pieces of us that I don't like or that drive me up the wall, but at the end of the say, it's who we are. I'm going to make the best of what we have.
It is also a warning. It is a warning that, if nobody reads the writing on the wall, man will be reduced to the state of the beast, whom he is shaming by his manners.
Desire filters toxins through my system at the sight and I lower again, shoving her against the padded wall to snake my tongue over the elixir of pain.
If ants had a language they would, no doubt, call their anthill an artifact and describe the brick wall in its neighborhood as a object. in fact would be for them all that was not 'ant-made'.
