My wife died of someone trying to help her. He helped her find her way off a bridge and into a chained and locked metal trunk. Then he had the audacity to not accept a coupon when I went to pay him for his services rendered.
Can you hold happiness? Can you drink it? Can you taste it? Can you touch it? Of course not, it is immaterial. So, stop looking for it in the material world! Happiness is experienced within; when we bridge the gap between what we want to experience a...
No recorded vision is perfect, of high visions, for the seer must keep either his physical organs or his memory in working order. And neither is capable. There is no bridge. One can only be conscious of one thing at a time, and as the consciousness m...
Quitting’s not hard. Deciding to quit is hard. Once you make that mental leap, the rest is easy.” “Really? Was that how you quit me?” And just like that, without thinking, without saying it in my head first, without arguing with myself for da...
Lines are results, do not draw them for themselves. ... Lines give birth to lines. Drawing is not following a line on the model, it is drawing your sense of the thing. ... Make a drawing flow, stopping sometimes, and going on. ... Search for the simp...
Fly (poem from the book Blue Bridge) Delicate, / butterfly winged, / we vainly push against the sky, / each trying to find our place. Yes, we are going to die, / let's not beat about the bush. / Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, / maybe even years from no...
Meltwater (from the book Blue Bridge) Up here. A face Loses its lines I look to see The colour of your eyes … They have turned To water. I lean forward To catch The scent of your hair – All I smell is heather. I touch your hand And all I feel is ...
Language may have limits. But it isn’t just a dim likeness in a mirror. Yes, gestures, glances, touches, taps on walls mean something. So do silences. But sometimes the word is the thing. The bridge. Sometimes we only know what we feel once it’s ...
For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by things large and small. I wanted to know what made my watch tick, my radio play, and my house stand. I wanted to know who invented the bottle cap and who designed the bridge. I guess from early...
...but you are too much for them: the weak in courage are strong in cunning; and one by one, you have absorbed and have captured and dishonored, and have distilled of your deliverers the most ruinous of all poisons; people hear Beethoven in concert h...
Head Illinois State Trooper: I don't want to tell you how to do your job... Deputy Marshal Samuel Gerard: [on his police radio] Put the helicopter on the bridge! Head Illinois State Trooper: ...but only one man in a million can survive that fall. The...
Stacey Bridges, Outlaw: Now, Morg. You just give us the combination to that safe in the mining office and we'll slip right in, get the money that's owed us and slip right back out again. Morgan Allen: [dying] I wouldn't give you the combination to th...
[the boat has arrived at the Do Lung bridge, which is a combat zone] Chef: Lance! Hey, Lance! What do you think? Lance: It's beautiful! Chef: What's the matter with you? You're acting kinda weird! Lance: Hey, you know that last tab of acid I was savi...
I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmis...
It is still news to her that passion could steer her wrong though she went down, a thousand times strung out across railroad tracks, off bridges under cars, or stiff glass bottle still in hand, hair soft on greasy pillows, still it is news she cannot...
Before big bridges, deep tunnels and the advent of health and safety regulations, there were many ways to cross rivers. They would use rowing boats, rickety rafts or in the absence of a vessel, swim or wade. Everyone knew what a stepping-stone was. T...
My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words...
Could you just imagine? If every suicide rose--think of Faulkner's Quentin Compson as a vampire. I don't hate the South I don't I don't. She wondered how they'd have worked it out in Cambridge when Quentin threw himself off the Andersen bridge into t...
Love is like an undertow. You can fight it with every ounce of energy you have; it is far more powerful than you, and it inevitably sweeps you under. Once love takes hold, it remains. Love is what remains when life finds its ending. It is the bridge ...
Bridge-players tell me that there must be some money on the game 'or else people won't take it seriously'. Apparently it's like that. Your bid - for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity - will not be serio...
The author called us to re-examine assumptions bequeathed to us from Greece and Rome. Just as a bridge built by the Roman Empire might have held up tolerably for centuries under foot traffic but crumble under the weight of a modern truck, the author ...
