It doesn't really matter if you are left behind the back, but what matters is your capacity to pull and push everyone by your way to get to the front.
The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves.
Bang! The end of his little finger, now, and three more pieces of the rest. His middle finger was down to the knuckle, almost. Severard stared, his eyes with with horror, his breath coming short, fast gasps. Shock, amazement, stunned terror. Glokta leaned down to his ear. 'I hope you weren't planning to take up the violin, Severard. You'll be lucky if you can play a fucking gong by the time we're done here.
Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.
I wont cry, it'll be fine. I'll take my last breath. Push it out my chest 'til there's nothing left.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath for one last time and let his hand go. She saw his boat drifting away they both looked at each other and waved one last time before she could not see him anymore.
At last, you will not be remembered for roaming the earth as a non-entity, but by every word, and every miracle, and every love, and every seed that ever came from the innermost part of your heart.
Love is an intangible thing. When you truly love, you learn that what you feel is more significant than anything that you can see. Love has more power than any weapon. It is more life giving than food or medicine. Sometimes love lasts forever and sometimes it lasts just long enough to teach you what you need to learn.
It is not against reason, said the Englishman, to prefer the destruction of the world to a scratch on your finger – how much easier to understand the same price for the gash in your soul.
We all were courageous in the starting moments, few of us stayed courageous till the final moments and the world called them successful men.
Love me like today is the last day we can see stars in the sky, let us sleep under them and throw ourselves into the oblivion and never again reach out for reality.
Nobody lives forever, nobody stays young long enough. My past seemed like so much excess baggage, my future a series of long goodbyes, my present an empty flask, the last good drink already bitter on my tongue.
I tap my pen against the Edith Piaf record, thinking of how to express my future sentiments when my journey comes to an end. Either in the arms of the girl I love, or buried in a box of memories, this note will be the last.'Ma femme, Je ne regrette rien, because I found everything. I love you.
Yesterday was the last day on the calender of the past. Tomorrow will be the first day on the calender of the future. Today is both the first and the last day of the present. Use it well.
I'm going to build that house with my own hands, from the foundation to the roof. I'm going to do it for us, and I'm going to do it right, so it lasts forever. Can't go raising walls on a shaky foundation. Can't go slapping thatch over rafters so thin, they'll topple with the first winter storm. Do you know?She nodded. I know.He reached for her hand. It's the same with us. I mean to build something with you. Something that will last. Much as I want you, I don't want to rush and bollocks it up.
At the edge you will always remember me, at the edge you will last be remembered, where sanity and insanity come together, for the time, then separates. Like leaves on October trees, that color the world, but for a moment, then leave. At the edge, where life losses its edginess, and thoughts we will become one, someday. At the edge the sun drops, the ring falls, and senses of raindrops climb upwards to the gray sky.
My dad once said... Some friends are like rubber wrappers; they bind with you safely but get weaker when you stretch them too much. Treat your friends with care, else the elasticity of their love for you may not go lasting!
Do you have any idea how mad you sound?’‘Indeed I do. I have in moments of doubt considered the question of my sanity.’ (...)‘And?’‘Then I consider what a piece of work is man. How defective in reason, how mean his facilities, how ugly in form and movement, in action how like a devil, in apprehension how like a cow. The beauty of the world? The paragon of animals? To me the quintessence of dust.
The heart of a man is a small thing but it desires great matters. It is not big enough for a dog’s dinner but the whole world is not big enough for it. Man spares nothing that lives; he kills to feed himself, he kills to clothe himself, he kills to adorn himself, he kills to attack, he kills to defend himself, he kills to instruct himself, he kills to amuse himself, he kills for the sake of killing. From the lamb he tears its guts and makes his harp resound; from the wolf his most deadly tooth to polish his pretty works of art; from the elephant his tusks to make a toy for his child.(...)And who will exterminate him who exterminates all others?
I saw many people who begun their marathon races lately, but they eventually came up as top winners. I believe that your lateness does not account for your lastness. It's not too late for you to make a start... Begin it now! No further delays!
I always think everything is going to last forever, but nothing ever does. In fact nothing exists longer than an instant except the thing that we hold in memory
and the boy's eyes are searching hers with something like loneliness, like the very last thing he wants is to be left behind right now.
There is a time and place for electromagnetic shielding and I regard it as a last resort due to the long term biological problems that I have observed with it over the years in plant growth experiments.
High buildings fall, black oceans rise, and coins sink in height Where weapons smash in every grace, with every black and white The east drops, the west too, children die and so do oldWith every sin, and every crime, people drop by their goldThe ground wrecks to chunks where people tend to fallAnd gardens turn dumps but the tiny bird’s soulFire, Wind, Water and Sun, all kill a birthIt just goes on to be the Last day on earth