Transients Homeless Quotes & Sayings

With every new manoeuvre, the light was growing dimmer
fading by numbers as well as strength
and the sound could no longer be heard, but only the pulse of it
seen going out in the darkness
losing its edges
caving in at its centre
webbing, now, as if a spider was spinning against the rain
until the last few strands of brightness fell
and were extinguished
silenced and removed from life and from all that lives forever.
And the bell tolled
but the ark, as ever, was adamant. Its shape had taken on a voice. And the voice said: no. — Timothy Findley

The only way around it is to stay with one guy forever. But does forever have a built-in ending ... ? — Jennifer Niven

A lot of Americans desperately want to believe that China is full of poor people who can't innovate, and the only goods they make are cheap, toxic rip-offs our Western brands. They want to believe the only reason the Chinese economy is surging is because the West wants cheap goods and China knows how to make them that way. — Sarah Lacy

Words performed through music can express what language alone had exhausted — Hugo Von Hofmannsthal

I've been in the twilight of my career longer than most people have had their career. — Martina Navratilova

According to Inuit culture in Greenland, a person possesses six or seven souls. The souls take the form of tiny people scattered throughout the body. — Annie Dillard

Life is compost. You think that a strange thing to say, but it's true. All my life and all my experience, the events that have befallen me, the people I have known, all my memories, dreams, fantasies, everything I have ever read, all of that has been chucked onto the compost heap, where over time it had rotted down to a dark, rich, organic mulch. The process of cellular breakdown makes it unrecognizable. Other people call it the imagination. I think of it as a compost heap. Every so often I take an idea, plant it in the compost, and wait. It feeds on that black stuff that used to be a life, takes its energy for its own. It germinates. Takes root. Produces shoots. And so on and so forth, until one fine day I have a story, or a novel. — Diane Setterfield