Best Quotes - Page 7

She had the blood of the sun running through her veins and the dust of stars at her fingertips. Her every breath birthed new cosmos and her thoughts were the super moon of the darkest night. Every word was a supernova and every step an inescapable singularity. Her touch though...it was soft.

Hubert Martin

Spare parts lay scattered, every turn wrought with twisted dread, all over the ground, the rooftops, and they were still. Some moving, twitching, enough to almost see. Half cracked and shattered, but still visible and eerie, smiles spread wide and thin, teeth decayed and not, paralleled by hollowed, some missing or in other places, eyes of shades green and blue and some brown with red, but no white, just color portrayed, even if it may be dampened in every way. The beauty in the frivolity, the polished shining gears and cracked glass illuminated so brightly, create a portrait of terror and wonder, significance of a different sort, that only human eyes can see and human minds can feel, but all this is something only dreams, the ethereal concepts that fuse and mince chaos and order into a more paradoxical state, can create and fathom and fashion and make. And yet, doubts upon anxious contradictions, my fingers can feel the brokenness of what can be witnessed, an abyss within a void where deeper within the still lies a glow, a half pulse of a flutter, a vein of mimicry of the reverse of all I see, with concave eyes lost in the magnitude of image whole. Massive and monumental, my feet dragged behind me, cuts in the dirt and spiraling tracks. And then I awoke, half my world disappeared. So much empty within the whole, holes of sizes big and small and all between, the loss of, what it was to be called, my dream. And then my life ended, the holes and tears and cracks complete, empty eyes can still see so clearly, the nothingness that everything has become, shadow and matte a combination of dark on black, in the nothingness that all has become, it is all complete in a way opposite of what I know, a world different in every way and stretch I see, vision upon view of different and strange, only when empty eyes, longing for purpose dreading its meaning, gaze upon their own reflection will the last piece fall into place, a round puzzle of pieces triangular and square, the completeness in the nothingness can be seen, mind flooded with wonder, envisioning the antonym of a dream, and what, in this new beginning, this all could mean. With a blink it all changes, incomplete images appear, holes are wide and seen because you are back now, between death and dream, interwoven as an integral part of this necessary in between seam, and when you touch, worry creases the brow, their faces, half real and the other untouchable, your hand passes through their skin, penetration of the most intimate sort, holding their hearts as if for sport. The warmth, the beating, the crimson piercing blood, so beautiful, the engine that we run, pumping and pumping only to cause the most dreaded flood. Now I drown, and I see you drown too. Together, we are, for split seconds few, we are torn apart and disappear in this vast blood red hue.

Hubert Martin

And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves.

Hubert Martin

What do you do when your words aren't enough? What do you do when your actions have no effect? What do you do when all the fibers of your existence scream just to be heard? And yet, only the most deafening silence returns the echoes of your screams. Is there something beyond words and action?

Hubert Martin

She was a mimicry of a facade fashioned from the half-truths of her life. She was a beautiful abomination, patched together from the most pristine and terrible parts she could find. She was a black crystal of many cuts and facets whose dark glow suffocated and entranced those it washed over. There was a pointlessness in her eyes and apathy in her stature, and further in, past the symphonies of nightmarish screams was a blinding light. All the capability she could ever ask for kept in a place she would never reach. She chose the ice rather than the fire, shivering and hard with heat sparse, for while a flicker can exist in freeze's cold, it's heat will not radiate, no matter how bold. She took my face in hands that would make ice seem warm and whispered a blizzard into my ear, a cascading song of fear after fear. The lies she spilled, mixed with regrets and appeal, were cloaked in the inferno of her rage, the anger, the only thing that really made her real. This was her one semblance of life, a bottomless and endless void of proportions vast with a calamity of fusion and fission streaking through, a mindless hue, an emotion with a face, a darling of her race. The cracks spew darkness from within her ever so pale skin. They congregated on her curves and flesh in black and churning rivers and streams. They flooded every dip with blackness. They filled every hollow with unstable curiosity, this is her release, this is when she is free. The faces of deceit always laugh, they never wallow for their lies are a pleasure tool, her insides are contorted in laughter the same way, just as slick, just as cruel. A crude combination of fascination, of animation, of the darkest demons of them all. She was poetry written in pen, scratched and scribbled again and again. Ink splattered across the page, and within those scrawled words, those small, sharp incisions, an image can be seen, and you're left to wonder what, in the end, this all could mean...

Hubert Martin

Though I exist in the realms of day and night, I'm only truly alive in the moments between.

Hubert Martin

If I tear the sun from the sky and bring all the stars cascading down, would that line of your lips curve to a smile or a frown? With my hands burnt to a crisp and prosthetics in their place, would you hold me close and allow comfort in your embrace? If I fashioned a band from that sun and those stars, would you kiss these lines on my flesh? These irrevocable scars? I've fashioned for you this band of infinite light! Yet upon your finger it is not nearly so bright... You are my stars, sun and light. You are blazing fire in hopeless night. You are a reflection of perfection if my soul stood a mirror. Your affection is my infection, if only you could be nearer. You stand as a darling of your race, while I lay as an emotion with a face. What I sought and seek is not easily found, Yet from your lips escapes the perfect sound. My name and yours, yours and mine, Not even softest silk could be so fine. And yet, I see you standing there, Indecisive and fiddling with your hair. Your eyes are downward cast and your tears and my tears flow, What I would do to see them glow…and for you to know.

Hubert Martin

And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

Hubert Martin

I was lost in the moments I decided to keep. To be awake in a dreamless sleep. And in that place between dream and sleep, I planted some more things I would like to keep.

Hubert Martin

She was an echo masquerading as a shadow and she followed me just the same. The night and its moon were her favor while the sunrise and sunlight the daggers that sliced her to ribbons. She looked through half closed eyes at a blind world filled with wide eyes staring at walls. She felt pity with no care while around here steamed a burden too dense to bear. In the hours before dawn her tears slide to her jaw as a soft song escapes from between her cracked lips. A barbed song of glory and woe that hugs her tight and steals her breath, each line a quiver, every word a bind. A cage in her image meant to be broken. Destroy and recreate, scar after scar shallow and deep, her dreams were her life and the nightmares her sleep. Dark circles under eyes that truly see, time while awake moves more slowly. It trickles past her, eroding her being and pulling on her delicate seams. She unravels a little each day, tucking the threads back in every which way. In the night she is flawless and clear, the moonlight dancing in swirls, throwing half formed monograms against her wall. She traces these curves and whispers her story, an imprint in an ocean of churning shadows. Her imagination plays a scene of a teary-eyed embrace on the shores of a former dream, where droplets of her soul fell wildly below, where they and her became a part of a much larger whole. A smile rips her taunt and clenched face, the memory of the feeling of an unreal embrace. She holds herself tightly in a corner with no light and shudders with every pinprick of the downpour of night. Though muffled by the glass of her self imposed flask, she hears the birds singing their song, the natural alarm of impending light. She waits patiently for the sun, counting the half seconds and making time slow, her grey eyes less than aimless and staring at the clouds. With half closed eyes now shining a golden haloed blue, she watches the sky change colors from soft to brilliant hue. The flood of life and color takes her by surprise every day and which way. The rip cuts a little more, her restless thoughts take note and pause. She just wants to scream. To swallow the vibrant light and flood her veins with all the color ever seen, a strange desire to fix what is broken and yet wanting to break. She loses count of the seconds in the wrinkles of her palms, mere dust to wind, ashes to gale. She recites the deadly seven and stops at lust, how different from love while still the same in a twisted way. Her knees press against the worn, wooden floor with no intent to pray, she just wants the numbness and the pain. There are some things right and a few that are wrong, feeling the breath of freedom tapered against the need to belong, The sun now vomits its light across the cragged horizon, illuminating manmade lines and verdurous fuzz, her rip widens in distaste and her mind frowns in disgust. Her heart hangs limp as a shattered mirror reflecting its own cracks, each inaudible beat a glimmer of a glimpse of something more than her created deceit. This is hope. In a fragile and faceted way, the reflects are abyss and ascension portrayed intertwined with no ties holding them together. She is the half second of the transition of the beat, the moment her heart begins to flex and show more than bones and maneuverable meat. She wonders about the subtle difference between spirit and soul and whether she needs only one or both to be whole. Shaking her head as if to dislodge her thoughts, they steer from the tracks and tumble and crash, destruction and turmoil birthing creation and a new path. She thinks about the way she thinks and comes full triangle, it feels right to be so jagged rather than unburdened as a circle. With a sigh and a breath, she stands against the weight of her shoulders and the unbalance of her feet. Her half closed eyes slowly fade to grey as the light and color in the sky changes and decays. She is the moments before the sun rises and sets-1-2-3

Hubert Martin

...4-5-6: when time escapes the day in its most beautiful way. She starves for that beauty, she longs to quench her limitless thirst, but those moments are so fleeting and their limit is her unrest. Her bones are hollow and heavy as she takes a single step, and in that instant she is gone, blinded by the flash of a stray ray of light, her eyes close in that moment and stars flood her night. She falls forward slow, counting the half seconds of her descent. Her eyes stay closed, her thoughts are spent.

Hubert Martin

The best dreams are the dreams we made come true for the world.

Psyche Roxas-Mendoza

Be passionate about your dreams and never give sleep to your eyes until your good becomes better and your better becomes the best.

Israelmore Ayivor

THE BEST people are the good old wrinkled people with a sparkle in their eye, a wink when you walk by or a toothless smile saying you are doing just fine ...

Robert Wesley Miller

To introduce to people a radically difference paradigm for life is to give the best response

Sunday Adelaja

Sometimes the best solution is to stop trying to change people.

Jeffrey Fry

A lonely soul is the best friend of itself

Munia Khan

It is hard to love yourself if you never spend time with yourself. 'Alone Time' is Necessary

Izey Victoria Odiase

I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul, and I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been keeping me whole.

Nicole Lyons

As a result, your subconscious mind will do its best to keep you from a successful marriage, because you have a disagreement between your consciousness and sub consciousness

Sunday Adelaja

The fear of losing anything is the inability to prepare for the best.

Michael Bassey Johnson

Was it possible that the emotion of love had somehow made me more susceptible to fear? Does the noble emotion of love make us start valuing our own lives and the lives of our loved ones more so that the feeling of fear creeps into our mindset?

Vivek Pereira

What is your motivation? When you drill down and ask, "What if there was zero ROI (of any form)?," you'll discover your highest and best use of time.

Richie Norton

Better a little with God than a whole lot without Him. Better to have fewer houses, cars, appliances, clothes, toys, and bills than to have the whole world and lose your soul. Better something paid for that's used and enjoyed and shared and worn out than something nice and shiny and new that won't be paid for until 2019 and that you're too stressed to enjoy. Better a little with the fear of the Lord than more of what everyone else has. Better than normal, instead of normal is best.

Craig Groeschel

Villainessa Tittel was a hired killer, an assassin by trade. She had enjoyed the best education and had been trained by assassins who had (until then at least) been considered the best in the business. She had turned to ‘cleaning’ as an occupation because she really enjoyed endings more than beginnings – and anyway, she didn’t need to know her mark’s entire pedigree or life’s story, or to have some kind of facetious moral justification just to collect her fee. Unsurprisingly, when she did read – on those rare occasions – her books were always dog-eared from the back.

Christina Engela

Experience is the best teacher.

Penelope Douglas

Think about every good thing in your life right now. Free yourself of worrying. Let go of the anxiety, breathe. Stay positive, all is well.

Germany Kent

Take caution when declaring war because you may believe it will be easy, but war will always end in despair.

Anonymous

If you give your best to someone it will most definitely come back to you, often from a different person altogether.

Hrishikesh Agnihotri

There are better people in the world, do not let the worst do the worst to you, you deserve the best in life.

Michael Bassey Johnson

I want to take all our best moments, put them in a jar, and take them out like cookies and savor each one of them forever.

Crystal Woods

Give your best today you will create a better tomorrow.

Lailah Gifty Akita

A world full of "certainties"All the plans, all the vanities.Where black covers the whiteSuited in "confidence"- the constant fight.A million roads I dream to takeOne destination, knowing not I turn where.A green veil covers for two years, some two decades.But the "plan" awaits, new roads to make.I pant, I struggle, I do my best While they say,"You are, dear, but so inadequate".

Sanhita Baruah

Change is automatic, but Growth is intentional.

Izey Victoria Odiase

genuinely ,there is no differences between job and love . in boh cases ,you have to be up to date ,upgraded, continue ,smart,presentable and best performers.

litymunshi

Remember, each of us needs to be the best in our field

Sunday Adelaja

If you are going to quit after a couple of steps, you aren’t going to be the best you can ever be.

Israelmore Ayivor

The best of knowledge and righteous acts are those hidden to the people.

Al-Fudhayl ibn Iyyadh

The outside is the only place we can truly be inside the world.

Daniel J. Rice

Sometimes change isn't what we want, but it might be what we need. Not everything is meant to last forever.

Lorri Faye

The best traveler is one without a camera.

Kamand Kojouri

The best work that anybody ever writes is the work that is on the verge of embarrassing him, always.

Arthur Miller

Doing our best and doing it better everyday will help us lead our lives with peace of mind.

Mohith Agadi

Good becomes better by playing against better, but better doesn't become the best by playing against good.

Amit Kalantri

Some of the best things that have ever happened to us wouldn’t have happened to us, if it weren’t for some of the worst things that have ever happened to us.

Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Best of stories are created at Airports, Dinner Tables and Showers!

Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Love makes you do,the best of things.Love makes you do, the worst of things,It's a feeling extreme,that doesn't exist in between.

Jasleen Kaur Gumber

If where we are now and whatever we are going through does not motivate us to leave this world better than the way we met it, we are in this world for wrong reasons.

Bamigboye Olurotimi

Keep a light, hopeful heart. But expect the worst.

Joyce Carol Oates

I can arrogantly brag that the doors I choose in life open wide and grant me unobstructed passage. But the widest doors tend to lead to the worst places.

Craig D. Lounsbrough

The best gifts come from the heart, not the store.

Sarah Dessen

I tried your best and it didn't work, so now I'm going to try my best and I'm sure that I'll succeed!

Anthony T.Hincks

Some of my best ideas come from when I'm sitting on the toilet.

Anthony T.Hincks

Do your best and let God do the rest.

Ben Carson

I know I'm not going to be in your head all the time. But once you know me, I'll be forever in your heart.

Crystal Woods

Be the one who nurtures and builds. Be the one who has an understanding and a forgiving heart one who looks for the best in people. Leave people better than you found them.

Marvin J. Ashton

I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.

Sarah Kay

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Best Quotes - Page 7

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