Best 62 quotes in «beat quotes» category

A man cannot impart the true feeling of things to others unless he himself has experienced what he is trying to tell of.

America this is quite serious

A merciful heart beats contently stronger than many vengeful ones

Bedtime is daytime, and we come into bloom after midnight.

A poet is a blind optimist. The world is against him for many reasons. But the poet persists. He believes that he is on the right track, no matter what any of his fellow men say. In his eternal search for truth, the poet is alone. He tries to be timeless in a society built on time.

...Cody is furiously explaining to his little son Tim 'Never let the right hand know what your left hand is doing'... Page 100.

Con la aparición de Dean Moriarty comenzó la parte de mi vida que podría llamarse mi vida en la carretera

Driving down deserted early morning roads. Round and round. Round downtown. Through naked streets. Lips pursed on two litre bottles of beer, but pursuing the lips of freedom's night. Swapping cars. Winding up at karaoke bars or Bolsi- the best place in town. For the food. For the folk. For the service. For the crema de papaya. And for that late night dawn's whiskey coffee.

Every beat of my heart is a love letter to you...

Come on cats, let's go. Let's teach those old dog cheap trick beatniks some new kicks and bottle up and blow.

Did you do this?” “There are other ways to beat someone than with fists.” Radu poked her in the side with a finger. She surprised him by laughing. He stood up straighter, a proud grin at having surprised and delighted Lada bursting across his face. She never laughed unless she was laughing at him. He had done something right! Then the lashings began. Radu’s smile wilted and died. He looked away. He was safe now. And Lada was proud of him, which had never happened before. He focused on that to ignore the sick feelings twisting his stomach as Aron and Andrei cried out in pain. He wanted his nurse—wanted her to hold and comfort him—and this, too, made him feel ashamed. Lada watched the whip with a calculating look. “Still,” she said. “Fists are faster.

Don't play to beat someone, play to win.

Euphemisms chosen by fear are a covenant with hypocrisy and will immediately destroy the poem and eventually destroy the poet.

Eyes and ears are two. Lungs and kidneys, too. I wonder then why we're born with one heart that skips a beat when hay is here, and beats quickly when you are near. One heart that cracks when you are far, lie to me and leave a scar. I wonder then why we're born with one heart that gets broken. Was I supposed to find you then? So your heart would make one plus one is two for me and two for you.

Fag Bush Betty leaned against the sink and the supports whined under her weight, but she leaned anyway and picked stuff out of her teeth, using the mirror as a reference. She stopped after a few crevices and looked at herself. I’d seen a ton of women give themselves that look to themselves in the mirror before. Those eyes were searching for the answer. The way her eyebrows made her forehead wrinkle up, and her chapped lips and skin that was loose on parts of body gave her a very gaunt texture and appearance. I didn’t need a change of light or a particular aimed luminescence to see the extreme parts of her. I could see her spine, and every bone in it. She turned the faucet on and ran water into her hands, splashing it onto her face and letting the beads run down her cheeks, over the edge of her chin and down beside the veins in her neck. “I do that sometimes too,” I said. She turned her head with her back still facing me. “That, right there, stand above the sink and using the water like that,” I said, “never helps though, but it’s funny how it makes your eyes burn. I’ll take a shower sometimes and get real clean. I’ll wash everything. Later that night I’ll have a freak out and walk over to the sink, same as you, naked as hell. I’ll splash water on my face but still when it gets in my eyes it burns. Like there’s some dirt or sweat that I missed while in the shower. It always happens that way. I can’t seem to get everything, and my eyes just… burn. Sometimes the sweat really makes them sting. And there’s nothing you can really do about it, ya have to let it burn until it washes out.

Finally, we entered Chetaube County, my imaginary birthplace, where the names of the little winding roads and minuscule mountain communities never failed to inspire me: Yardscrabble, Big Log, Upper, Middle and Lower Pigsty, Chicken Scratch, Cooterville, Felchville, Dust Rag, Dough Bag, Uranus Ridge, Big Bottom, Hooter Holler, Quickskillet, Buck Wallow, Possum Strut ... We always say a picture speaks a thousand words, but isn’t the opposite equally true?

Excellence is to keep beating your own standards every day. If you don't have a standard for yourself, you have no records to beat; and if you don't have any record to beat, you can't excel. What is your current standard?

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?

For once I want the beat louder than my mind.

His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.

It’s just a stupid stupid heart. They would break it again and again but it would beat still.

I Feel like a prison holding myself, bounded by the judgements of people I care and chained by the rules of the society I live in. If I would let the person who speaks inside me out, he would tell you a different story than what you have seen all these years. Sometimes I see myself crying, screaming and trying to tear myself into pieces when I stand in front of the mirror so that I could finally be free from myself. But the demons I have created inside me to guard beats me down and laughs at me, watching me bleed.

I have found a way to beat myself I win by losing, something like that I'm told that I'm stupid So ok, I'll be stupid If I can't register the pain Then it's not there I'm not so stupid after all I'll show them

He looked into her eyes and said "When everything falls apart, and the day my soul refuses to move any further, I'll come back home. A home that fills me with courage and love. My home neither has doors and nor windows, All it have is walls. The walls that beat every second. And it has a pair of eyes too. Through which I can see this world more beautifully than I ever did".

…love is by definition free and if he choose to go when I would have him stay perhaps I'll die a bit but I'd rather so than taste his absent minded kiss and lie uneasy in a masked embrace

Lured by smooth roads onto a new turnpike, he read with surprise the rules he was handed, don't stop, don't turn around, pay when you get there; he made his escape at the first exit he saw, for fiftyfive cents, and now he was on the old road buzzing the staid turnpike by turns over and under, teasing it crazy.

Lovers are the coolest their hearts beat the best & they kiss magic as hell

Miriam is upset. Her voice is stretched and I can't look at her. Perhaps they beat something out of her she didn't get back.

...music, if it really resonates, will beat somewhere right near your heartbeat. That music will make sense to you...because it's in rhythm with your soul.

Now you're going East with Sal," Galatea said, "and what do you think you're going to accomplish by that? Camille has to stay home and mind the baby now you're gone--how can she keep her job? and she never wants to see you again and I don't blame her. If you see Ed along the road you tell him to come back to me or I'll kill him." Just as flat as that. It was the saddest night. I felt as if I was with strange brothers and sisters in a pitiful dream. Then a complete silence fell over everybody; where once Dean would have talked his way out, he now fell silent himself, but standing in front of everybody, ragged and broken and idiotic, right under the lightbulbs, his bony mad face covered with sweat and throbbing veins, saying, "Yes, yes, yes," as though tremendous revelations were pouring into him all the time now, and I am convinced they were, and the others suspected as much and were frightened. He was BEAT--the root, the soul of Beatific.

…of constipation of the brain & diarrhea of the mouth.

Poetry is alive because it is a medium of vision and experience. It is not necessarily comfortable. It is not necessarily safe.

Science can make a heart beat with ventilator, but there is only one power that makes it live, that is LOVE which is the purest form of FAITH.

Meeting new people is just remembering faces of God we've forgotten.

Nereden Gelip Geçer" Bazen pasaportumu çıkarır fotoğrafıma bakarım (çok iyi değil... vs.) sadece var olduğumu görmek için Tokyo 12 haziran 1976

Once lively peonies now wind-weary, and ragged at the edges, hang their heavy crowns; rain on their backs, one final act, before detaching from the stem and falling down.

Paradise!' he screamed. 'The one and only indispensable Paradise.

So I did something I've never done, and put your live above my own, because no matter how hard I try to convey it, I'm not heartless. I have a heart and... and it beats for you.

Shergahn and friend lay like poleaxed steers, and the Daranfelian's greasy hair was thick with potatoes, carrots, gravy, and chunks of beef. His companion had less stew in his hair, but an equally large lump was rising fast, and Brandark flipped his improvised club into the air, caught it in proper dipping position, and filled it once more from the pot without even glancing at them. He raised the ladle to his nose, inhaled deeply, and glanced at the cook with an impudent twitch of his ears. "Smells delicious," he said while the laughter started up all around the fire. "I imagine a bellyful of this should help a hungry man sleep. Why, just look what a single ladle of it did for Shergahn!

So yeah… I got beat up… then went in some kinda cell… THE SYSTEM HAS NEVER BEEN FAIR!

Sung Win smiled to himself, enjoying the tension across his shoulders and the way his pulse beat in his veins. All life involved risk.

Suppose, before you beat the stuffing out of me, you tell me who you are and explain why. Then I may or may not take it like a man, depending on whether or not I agree with you.

The atmosphere felt unexpectedly intense and the music was frantic. The beat made it both difficult to think straight and pleasant to move – like swimming almost.

The problem with the 11:11 Phenomenon is getting anybody interested in it that hasn't experienced it themselves. Other phenomena, such as U.F.Os or crop circles, are able to be seen. We can debate them. But seeing and being guided by 11:11 is hard to convey to those uninitiated in its ways.

The first passion not only makes the heart beat faster but also vibrates the mental eyes.

The machines are too dull when we are lion-poems that move & breathe.

There are no barriers to poetry or prophecy; by their nature they are barrier-breakers, bursts of perceptions, lines into infinity. If the poet lies about his vision he lies about himself and in himself; this produces a true barrier.

To vote or not... it really doesn't matter it = 1 vote... as for the others with one vote somebody could beat you.

There's nothing happy about love at all!! I would rather have not known real love... if it hurts this much.

The sky blue strengthens slowly, the dawn light rosy and pale the summer song of our romance begin to unveil...with every heart beat and the waves' breath...the time stood in harmony still. Your morning kiss my hands could feel...by your lips soft, so warm, so very gentle, nice and full of life...