Oh say can you see Alma. The darlingof Them. All her friends were artists. They alone have memories. They alonelove flowers. They alone give partiesand die. Poor Alma. They alone. She died, and it was as if all the jewels in the worldhad heaved a sigh. The seismographat Fordham university registered, for once, a spiritual note. How like a sliverin her own short fat muscular foot. She loved the Western World, thoughthere are some who say she isn't really dead. Frank OHara
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and–in spite of True Romance magazines–we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely–at least, not all the...
-
Hunter S. Thompson
Stop fighting me! " he said, trying to pull on the arm he held. He was in a precarious position himself, straddling the rail as he tried to lean over far enough to get me and actually hold onto me.“ Let go of me! ”...
-
Richelle Mead
Weeping is not the same thing as crying. It takes your whole body to weep, and when it's over, you feel like you don't have any bones left to hold you up.
-
Sarah Ockler
May she wake in torment! " he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. "Why, she's a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there–not in heaven–not perished–where? Oh! you said you cared nothing for...
-
Unknown
What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life--to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each...
-
George Eliot
More Quotes By Frank OHara
I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.
When I die, don't come, I wouldn't want a leafto turn away from the sun -- it loves it there. There's nothing so spiritual about being happybut you can't miss a day of it, because it doesn't last.
I embraced a cloud, but when I soaredit rained.
After the first glass of vodkayou can accept just about anythingof life even your own mysteriousnessyou think it is nice that a boxof matches is purple and brown and is called La Petite and comes from Swedenfor they are words that you know and that...
My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time; they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away. Or again at something after it has given me up.
