Quotes About Skeleton

As a cloud crosses the sun, silence falls on London; and falls on the mind. Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand. Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame.

Ultimately, the mirror reflects our mortality; when we gaze in the mirror, we gaze at a skeleton.

The skeleton is the death: it's in our body... (Le squelette, c'est la mort : - Il est dans notre corps...)

The skeleton, it's the death: It's in our body. (Le squelette, c'est la mort : Il est dans notre corps)

And here you see me working out, as cheerfully and thankfully as I may, my doom of sharing in the glass a constant change of customers, and of lying down and rising up with the skeleton allotted to me for my mortal companion.

We were always more or less miserable, and most of our acquaintance were in the same condition. There was a gay fiction among us that we were constantly enjoying ourselves, and a skeleton truth that we never did. To the best of my belief, our case was in the last aspect a rather common one.

Was it the speciality of Mr and Mrs Lammle, or does it ever obtain with other loving couples? In these matrimonial dialogues they never addressed each other, but always some invisible presence that appeared to take a station about midway between them. Perhaps the skeleton in the cupboard comes out to be talked to, on such domestic occasions?

La novia no vio el esqueleto deforme flotar en la superficie del contenedor abierto. Huesos manchados de sangre. Unas fauces se contorsionaron hasta producir un grito ahogado. Ojos hundidos mirando, buscando. Los recuerdos y el terror lo hicieron flotar. La fuerza de voluntad lo hizo flotar. Tap tap tap. Como teclas de una máquina de escribir.

Raindrops thump my poncho like pebbles falling into a broken drum. Half asleep, my face pressed into my gear, I listen to the sounds of the horror that is everywhere, buried just beneath the surface of the earth. In my dreams of blood I make love to a skeleton. Bones click, the earth moves, my testicles explode.

Plot is what happens in your story. Every story needs structure, just as every body needs a skeleton. It is how you 'flesh out and clothe' your structure that makes each story unique.

The bones are hard and by themselves seem dead and stony, but by rooting into and pulling against the skeleton, the rest of the body carries out all the motions of life.

Businesses are great structures for managing big projects. It's like trying to develop the ability to walk without developing a skeleton. Once in a blue moon, you get an octopus, but for the most part, you get skeletons. Skeletons are good shit.

Why didn't the skeleton cross the road? Because he had no guts. A good steak pun is a rare medium well done. A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Hey." The horse says, "Sure.

Het duurt zo lang voordat avond en dageraad voorbij zijn. Het duurt lang voordat de langzame nacht naderbij komt. Al wie westwaarts zwerft, al wie oostwaarts doolt weet niet waarom hij niet rusten kan. Het is omdat elke aardeszoon een skelet met zich meedraagt en ermee reizen moet.

A mere compilation of facts presents only the skeleton of History; we do but little for her if we cannot invest her with life, clothe her in the habiliments of her day, and enable her to call forth the sympathies of succeeding generations.

Stretched out in front of me was my time as an adult, and then a skeleton, and then nothing except perhaps a few books on a few shelves.

Behind this story so far is another story, as behind the girders of an ancient bridge is the skeleton of a child which superstition says keeps the bridge standing.

The toxin generates the anti-toxin. The end lies concealed in the beginning. All bodies grow around a skeleton. Life is a petticoat about death.

Outside, the sleet had gotten thicker. You could hear it pebbling against the large glass windows, you could see it swirling wildly through the spotlights of street lamps. It was the kind of night when you might expect to see a skeleton flying through the air, its ragged black shroud flapping in the wind.

You can never escape the bonds of family history, no matter how far you travel. And the skeleton of a house can carry in its bones the marrow of all that came before.

Your life, sir, is propelled By a dream of the fear of having nightmares; your love Is the fear of being alone; your world's history The fear of a possible leap by a possible antagonist Out of a possible shadow, or a not-improbable Skeleton out of your dead-certain cupboard.

Your life, sir, is propelled By a dream of the fear of having nightmares; your love Is the fear of your single self; your world's history The fear of a possible leap by a possible antagonist Out of a possible shadow, or a not-improbable Skeleton out of your dead-certain cupboard. But here am I, the true phenomenon Of acknowledged guilt, steaming with the block Of the pimp and the rag-and-bone man, Crime transparent. What the hell are we waiting for?

The skeleton was as happy as a madman whose straitjacket had been taken off.

The skeleton's lodgings had an ancient head and modern feet. The ceiling was the sky, the floor the earth. It was painted white and decorated with snowballs in which a heart beat. He looked like a transparent monument dreaming of an electric breast, and gazed without eyes, with a pleasant and invisible smile, into the inexhaustible supply of silence that surrounds our star.