Music is a wind that blows away the years, memories, and fear, that crouching animal I carry inside me.
My boyfriend likes to fuck my brains out on our kitchen island. Which tile would you recommend for that?
How many psychiatrists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” “I don’t know. How many?” “Eight.” “Why?” “Oh, stop overanalyzing it.
Queequeg was a native of Kokovoko, an island far away to the West and South. It is not down in any map; true places never are.
Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm.
The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough. Actually, I know different. And it's still enough.
As the sun lowered into the city's skyline, casting an orange glow over the islands, Jana could feel people's hopes rising.
The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough, there was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her peak.
Word has traveled quickly that just because you're on island doesn't mean you have to be stranded---as long as you have cash.
Nul ne peut voir par-dessus soi, écrit Schopenhauer pour faire comprendre l'impossibilité d'un échange d'idées entre deux individus d'un niveau intellectuel trop différent.
The sky above the island was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel—which is to say it was a bright, cheery blue.
TV sounds are all the same; there's no difference between the sound of the wind in Northern Ireland and the wind on a Polynesian island.
I got space from Travis Air Force Base, went back to the Philippine Islands and made it a point to meet the only American casting director in the Philippines. I was off and running.
No doubt these rocky islands have suggested the idea worked out in gardens, and they have been well imitated.
In Tasmania, an island the size of Ireland whose primeval forests astonished 19th-century Europeans, an incomprehensible ecological tragedy is being played out.
If you want to know why the towers of American capitalism are crumbling, I recommend reading 'The Creature from Jekyll Island' by G. Edward Griffin.
I knew I couldn't live in America and I wasn't ready to move to Europe so I moved to an island off the coast of America - New York City .
As a nation the people of this lovely island called Britain, are at the point where even one honest politician could give us a collective and conceptual nervous breakdown.
In my district, the budget scales back and eliminates several long-term shore protection projects important to the safety and economic security of Long Island.
Nobody would ever, ever get even remotely lippy about the Islanders with me, or there'd be bloodshed on the set of 'Entourage.' Everybody knows that you don't even go there.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island.
