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Creak Quotes
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
William Butler Yeats
In the haunted house of life, art is the only stair that doesn't creak.
Tom Robbins
The first deaths will barely swell the daily count, and no one in the statistics bureau will notice that extra zero. But after a while everyone will begin to look at each other and ask: what's happening? Because for months doors and windows are going to rattle, furniture and trees will creak.
Octavio Paz
It was a maxim with Mr. Brass that the habit of paying compliments kept a man's tongue oiled without any expense; and that, as that useful member ought never to grow rusty or creak in turning on its hinges in the case of a practitioner of the law, in whom it should be always glib and easy, he lost few opportunities of improving himself by the utterance of handsome speeches and eulogistic expressions.
Charles Dickens
The pines smell sweet in the frozen air, and their silhoutte's just fading there, the wolves crouch close, against the snow but where we're running I don't know, In villages and soft sad towns the candles sway as night comes down, cold bones creak and strange beasts cry, watching shadows in the sky... All I have, all I need, all I got.....is providence. ~ Providence.
Steve Kilbey
If I had grown up in that house I couldn't have loved it more, couldn't have been more familiar with the creak of the swing, or the pattern of the clematis vines on the trellis, or the velvety swell of land as it faded to gray on the horizon . . . . The very colors of the place had seeped into my blood.
Donna Tartt
The trees creak with their arthritic arms / brittle in their powederd bark / this year took ten years to / tell me that I'm alone again.
Blake Schwarzenbach
When hearing a door creak, the optimist thinks it's opening and the pessimist thinks it's closing.
Matthieu Ricard
The formal character of a living literature is the same as its inner character: it denies verities; it denies what everyone knows and what I have known until this moment. It departs from the canonical tracks, from the broad highway. ... To literature today the plane surface of daily life is what the earth is to an airplane - a mere runway from which to take off, in order to rise aloft, from daily life to the realities of being, to philosophy, to the fantastic. Let yesterday's cart creak along the well-paved highways. The living have strength enough to cut away their yesterday.
Yevgeny Zamyatin