You took a life and the theft went unpunished. God didn't strike you down. The sky didn't fall. The morning after, you turned on the faucet and water still came out.. It was still good when you raised your arm for a cab and one came towards you out of the flow like magic. You did things that were supposed to end you and found they were only things that changed you. It was a disappointment and a revelation and a bereavement and a new thrilling nudity. It was the basic prosaic obscenity: You kept going. Glen Duncan
Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword
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Oscar Wilde
I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle..the nights i can't remember..the mornings i slept thru..all the time spent running from myself.
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Mitch Albom
When we are mired in the relative world, never lifting our gaze to the mystery, our life is stunted, incomplete; we are filled with yearning for that paradise that is lost when, as young children, we replace it with words and ideas and abstractions -...
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Peter Matthiessen
Chimerical words, the words were written, Some are wasted; some are still on the page, Tattered words, the words were written, Some are young, some are aged, Gloomy words, the words were written, Some are unspoken, some are told, Words were hurt, though they can...
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Nishikant
His pen spoke more to her than he ever did”. In the war of words, some are unwritten and some are unspoken.
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Nishikant
More Quotes By Glen Duncan
The question 'What was there before creation?' is meaningless. Time is a property of creation, therefore before creation there was no before creation.
You can't live in dread of something for long without beginning to crave it.
Extraordinary what the body remembers. The bones loded with love, grief silting the arteries, fear the bowels' recurring mould. Who would have thought mere flesh and blood could hold so much of psyche's ghostly script?
It’s why we close the eyes, too. The dead shouldn’t have to look on the lewd aliveness of the living.
Don't bother looking for the meaning of it all. There isn't one. Maybe not, but life compulsively dangled the possibility. Life, the dramatist on speed. Life, that couldn't stop with its foreshadows and ironies and symbols and clues, its wretched jokes and false endings and...
