Wind is lord and change is sovereign of the strand.
-Algernon Charles Swinburne
Decadent British poet Algernon Charles Swinburne (born April 5, 1837) covered topics like sadomasochism and vampires, scandalizing the Victorians. At Oxford his roommate was fellow poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti. They had a pet wombat.
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"Some people are social butterflies. Others are social moths. We aimlessly bump into things over and over again until we find a flame and accidentally kill ourselves with it." - spongebob squarepants
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I am known as Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobella Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andre Charton-Haymoss Ivanovicci Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the Third. Don't hesitate to call.
-Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobella Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andre Charton-Haymoss Ivanovicci Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the Third (Vash the Stampede)
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"At every election, my vote goes to the candidate less likely to declare war. You're dropping hugely expensive pieces of exploding metal on a population. America deserves the president it gets, whether the country votes for them or allows their vote to be stolen, and the least we can do is to elect someone who won't do that to other people."
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As you're pretty, so be wise. Wolves may lurk in every guise! Now, as then, it's simple truth: You can't go wrong with a nice bit of cheese.
-Sheogorath (Not really)
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I lost my faith in god when I lost my daughter to cancer, the beast. I begged, I cried, I offered my life for hers, and day by day, I watched that beautiful little angel slip off. So, excuse me for not taking my seat next to you on Sunday in church, I feel too cheated to worship.
-Vince Neil
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Richard Sharpe: What are you smiling at, Fredrickson?
Frederickson: I'm not smiling, sir. A musket ball broke my jaw. I have false teeth. The sawbone stuck on the smile for free, sir. He also stuck on my hair. Hair belongs to a horse, sir.
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In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were,
In habite as an heremite unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world wondres to here.
Ac on a May morwenynge on Malverne hilles
Me bifel a ferly, of Fairye me thoghte.
I was wery forwandred and wente me to reste
Under a brood bank by a bourne syde;
And as I lay and lenede and loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng, it sweyed so murye.
Thanne gan I meten a merveillous swevene--
That I was in a wildernesse, wiste I nevere where.
-From the Prologue of The Vision of Piers Plowman
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I'll try to remember to post a quote daily. Here's a start:
We're each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?
Ursula K. Le Guin
Happy 85th birthday, Ursula K. Le Guin!
Obviously I invite others to post here, but let's keep it posi!
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