Lyrical Quotes

“The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. Daylight, even when the sun is clear of clouds, seems to us simply the natural condition of the earth and air. When we think of the downs, we think of the downs in daylight, as with think of a rabbit with its fur on. Stubbs may have envisaged the skeleton inside the horse, but most of us do not: and we do not usually envisage the downs without daylight, even though the light is not a part of the down itself as the hide is part of the horse itself. We take daylight for granted. But moonlight is another matter. It is inconstant. The full moon wanes and returns again. Clouds may obscure it to an extent to which they cannot obscure daylight. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Where it is to be found it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. We need daylight and to that extent it us utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. When it comes, it serves no necessity. It transforms. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another; turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable flashing fragments; or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile. Its long beams pour, white and sharp, between the trunks of trees, their clarity fading as they recede into the powdery, misty distance of beech woods at night. In moonlight, two acres of coarse bent grass, undulant and ankle deep, tumbled and rough as a horse's mane, appear like a bay of waves, all shadowy troughs and hollows. The growth is so thick and matted that event the wind does not move it, but it is the moonlight that seems to confer stillness upon it. We do not take moonlight for granted. It is like snow, or like the dew on a July morning. It does not reveal but changes what it covers. And its low intensity---so much lower than that of daylight---makes us conscious that it is something added to the down, to give it, for only a little time, a singular and marvelous quality that we should admire while we can, for soon it will be gone again.”
― Richard Adams, Watership Down

“Erik: Are you very tired?
Christine: Oh, tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead.
Erik: Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night.”
― Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera

“Waktu berjalan ke Barat di waktu pagi hari matahari mengikutiku di belakang.
Aku berjalan mengikuti bayang-bayangku sendiri yang memanjang di depan.
Aku dan matahari tidak bertengkar tentang siapa di antara kami yang telah menciptakan bayang-bayang,
aku dan bayang-bayang tidak bertengkar tentang siapa di antara kami yang harus berjalan di depan.”
― Sapardi Djoko Damono

“Half a page --- and the morning is already ancient.”
― Michael Ondaatje, Running in the Family

“To think she has forfeited her ethics for the Devil’s Book! The only book in the world she sees in her dreams, daydreams, and nightmares. The only book that may have the real secrets of voice instead of boring jargon page after page, tickling your curiosity and giving you the things you already know.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Not that the war heroes will touch them. Neither to shake hands, nor trace lightly, and never-ever intimately. Touching the unevolved people for pleasure isn’t principled.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“For now, we will watch the seagulls swallow paper, Appa and I. We will laugh and laugh, because the snow is still soft and we are still here.”
― Elane Kim, Postcards

“No, it was an intimate sort of haunting, found so in its vulnerability, its unabashed openness, in the way that it made her wish to smile and cry all at once. It was lyrical, hushed, and filled her entirely with an emotion that she could not begin to fathom. She wondered if she ever would.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, Prince of Chandeliers

“Back then, the mornings were warm and melting, the kind that invited light.”
― Elane Kim, Postcards

“That a burnt child loves the fire'

'I am not even singed. My wings are untouched.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“Don't bother pulling my string again-
Not behind those doll eyes anymore
I won't say what's expected, kid,
laugh at your tantrum on the floor

I'm just not looking at you, kid,
I'm not a piss-poor heart anymore;
Not going home with the lowest bid
Out of stock- your projection whore

I'm never going back to the toy box
Elevated up from the cellar-
home of the wish-washed pretty cocks
Out of the dark, preachin' Helen Keller

Bored with the coin-operated allure
I'm top shelf, kid, out of your reach
You can't afford to walk in the store
Turn around, kid, don't slip in bleach


-from 'Ragdoll$ & Riche$”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Confessions of a D3AD Petal

“She walked under the sun that browned her skin and let the wind brush her hair, let the sea lick her fingers” - In regards to Klaya.”
― Kris Faatz, Fourteen Stones

“As each letter unfolds inside her mind, she frames it in the palace of her memory.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War

“I sing myself out to you, and my talons clutch the branch, and I am wrung out until your next letter gives me breath, fills me to bursting.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War

“Life shouldn't stop just when it's getting started.”
― K.R. Gadeken, Space Station

“That a burnt child loves the fire.'

'I am not even singed. My wings are untouched.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Doran Gray

“Bad Trash
( I Don't Like the Sound of That)

Runs in the family
R u n s in the f a m i l y-
No, that's an atrocity
you won't hear from me

I don't like the sound of that
Not lyin' in a mouse trap-
I'm a mofo' sassy cat
I don't clean no d i r t y rat

No, not my reality
Said not M Y reality-
Don't shine shit in front of me
and call it my reality!

I don't like the sound of that
Cruel intentions get tires flat

I say what will shine for me
I say what will bleed for me
I call out the trash to me
Bad trash always dies for me

Clawed out my own reality
The top from the back alley
I don't run in the family
I run far from the alley

Calling all my sour soulmates-
Recovering a l l e y c a ts
You all clean up so good now
No bad, bad trash, just LoVe pats!










No bad trash, just LoVe pats”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Confessions of a D3AD Petal

“Αλλά η επίμονη προσκόλληση αυτών των φτωχών ανθρώπων στο βράχο που τους έριξε η τύχη όταν έσπερνε πρίγκιπες αποδώ και δούκισσες αποκεί, αυτή η θαρραλέα εγκατάλειψη σε μια ζωή όλο μόχθο, αυτή η πίστη της οικογένειας που αντανακλάται στο επάγγελμα, στο σπίτι και στις πέτρες που το περιτριγυρίζουν, μου μοιάζουν πράγματα σοβαρότατα και πολύ σεβαστά. Μου φαίνεται ότι οι ανησυχίες ενός περιπλανώμενου πνεύματος θα αποκοιμούνταν γλυκά μέσα στη γαλήνη αυτών των ήπιων, απλών συναισθημάτων που κληροδοτούνται ήσυχα και αμετάβλητα από γενιά σε γενιά.”
― Giovanni Verga, Vita dei campi

“only said you loved me
one time i cornered you...
now i understand
only want the tightest hand
to just let go,
yeah, letting you go, go, go
ready, set, go
ready, set, go
ready, set, GO!!!

Now, I'm racing so slow!
Snails RRR running the show!
At my own pace, LET GO!
Said, pour another, Moe,
I'm just tryin' to let go...”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Altered States of the Unflinching Souls

“Remember my heart laid bare at your feet-
you kicked it way across the Universe
Never thought I'd travel this much, I'm beat
Lip-stitched, still smile and wave from the hearse”
― Casey Renee Kiser, Altered States of the Unflinching Souls

“Ernestina
waves her
hands while
telling us
stories,
as if she’s
sewing
her words
into the air.”
― Gume Laurel III, Solar Punks

“Look into his
brown eyes.
They remind me of
soil after fresh rain.
Hungry for seeds
to, in time,
grow a harvest.”
― Gume Laurel III, Solar Punks

“Părea că doarme. Conștiința i se adumbrise într-o înnoptată visare. Amintirile i se întoarseră în rudimentari ciorchini de piatră. Avea doar - ca într-o vagă reverie - închipuirea că e purtat prin infinitul care năștea uneori fluxuri ce-l încălzeau ușor, mângâindu-l.”
― Georgina Viorica Rogoz, Anotimpul sirenelor

“At last both were out of the quivering apartment-the vibration of the door I had slammed after then still rang in every nerve, a poor substitute for the backhand slap with which I ought to have hit her across the cheekbone according to the rules of the movies.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Every spell extracts a part of the soul. And when they used those memories to survive, they also used what was left of them. Every crystal used is a nameless grave.”
― Theron Lysandros, What the Crystal Could Not Hold: Even broken, the crystal remembers

“Anon, to this astonishing view of wonder of nature, Śrī Rāma descended from the standstill mountain an' took her to the sacred waters of Mandākinī. He further described its beauty-how the hamsa produces very lits from the very mouth, how crystal-clear water shines, reflecting and stirring, how the wind brings flowers to the bank of Mandākinī...”
― Anik Chaudhary, As Ayodhyā caroled an’ Dirged: A Literary Retelling of the Valmiki Rāmāyaṇa: Philosophy and History

“Music soothes the mind just as painkillers would soothe a sprain.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Sips And Little Portions

“Love is the quiet place where the soul finally stops searching… because it knows it has arrived."
— Deo Volente”
― DEO VOLENTE, THE PULSE OF THE UNISOUL VOLUME-I

“You were not a moment to me… you were the eternity hidden inside one trembling heartbeat.”
― DEO VOLENTE, THE PULSE OF THE UNISOUL VOLUME-I