Balilla Hollow Quotes

The cold is waiting to ooze through the soles of your shoes. Maggot-damp, this city is festering: home to hollow faces of grey flesh. They stare from windows unclean, into the sun never reaches: dismal lives lived in dismal constriction. ~ Emmanuelle De Maupassant

For the first time, the rest of my life didn't seem so far away. ~ Hollow Ryan

Seelie Court," murmurs Nate. "Sounds familiar. Was it in a computer game?"
"Do I look like someone who plays computer games?"
A grin stretches across Nate's face. "You look like someone who could be in a computer game. ~ Rachel Morgan

She leaves an empty hole behind her. There was this feeling of optimism and joy in the house when she was around that's now turned into void. Like Vincent, I feel hollow. Sad. And as the days pass, I begin to realize I've grown to care for Kate. Not as my best friend's girlfriend, but as someone in and of herself. And I realize I miss her. ~ Amy Plum

Looks like my superpowers don't come with automatic manicures, thank heaven. I hate long nails. ~ Jennifer Silverwood

The pirates would kiss Hayden, and sometimes they would cut off a hank of hair - 'as a reminder of yer kisses, me lad' - and one of them even cut off a piece of his earlobe.
This particular pirate was Bill McGregor, and he was the one Hayden feared the most. Bill McGregor was the worst of them - and at night when everyone else was asleep, Bill McGregor would come looking for Hayden, his step slow and hollow on the planks of the deck, his voice a deep whisper.
Boy,' he would murmur. 'where are you, boy?'
After Bill McGregor cut off the piece of Hayden's earlobe, he decided that he wanted more. Every time he caught Hayden, he would cut a small piece off of him. The skin of an elbow, the tip of a finger, a piece of his lip. He would grip the squirming Hayden and cut a piece off of him, and then Bill McGregor would eat the piece of flesh. ~ Dan Chaon

As well have a talon as a finger, a muzzle as a mouth,
as well have a hollow as a heart. ~ Robert Hayden

Hymn to Mercury : Continued

11.
...
Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat,
He in his sacred crib deposited
The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet
Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain's head,
Revolving in his mind some subtle feat
Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might
Devise in the lone season of dun night.

12.
Lo! the great Sun under the ocean's bed has
Driven steeds and chariot - the child meanwhile strode
O'er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows,
Where the immortal oxen of the God
Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows,
And safely stalled in a remote abode. -
The archer Argicide, elate and proud,
Drove fifty from the herd, lowing aloud.

13.
He drove them wandering o'er the sandy way,
But, being ever mindful of his craft,
Backward and forward drove he them astray,
So that the tracks which seemed before, were aft;
His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray,
And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft
Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs,
And bound them in a lump with withy twigs.

14.
And on his feet he tied these sandals light,
The trail of whose wide leaves might not betray
His track; and then, a self-sufficing wight,
Like a man hastening on some distant way,
He from Pieria's mountain bent his flight;
But an old man perceived the infant pass
Percy Bysshe Shelley

I want to kiss you," he said. His thumb moved out of the hollow of her throat, and then back in. "Badly."
Her eyes closed and her brows hunched over them a moment. Then her forehead smoothed, as if she had worked out the solution to a problem. "No," she said. "You want to kiss me well. You just want it badly. ~ Suanne Laqueur

There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time. ~ Ray Bradbury

What's a victory when its hollow? ~ Keshia Chante

Are you serious? Vi's arm has been magically barbequed and you think she
needs a cupcake? ~ Rachel Morgan

Mrs. Turpin felt entirely hollow except for her heart which swung from side to side as if it were agitated in a great empty drum of flesh ~ Flannery O'Connor

Those are not hollow words, casually spoken in order to offer shallow comfort. ~ C.G. Ayling

Skulduggery waved at the Hollow Men and they hurtled backwards, then Stephanie felt a gloved hand close around her wrist and she was dragged out of the cavern. Skulduggery sprinted so fast she just allowed herself to be carried along in his wake. He knew exactly where he was going, and within minutes they were at the stone steps, hurrying up out of the caves. They reached the cellar and the key flew from the lock into his hand. The floor groaned and rumbled and closed up. "Will that hold him?" Stephanie asked. "He's got the Sceptre," Skulduggery said. "Nothing will hold him." As if to prove his point, the floor started to crack. "Move!" Skulduggery shouted. They bolted up the stairs and Stephanie glanced back just as the floor vanished in a soft whump of dust and air. They plunged out of the house into the bright sunlight, the Hollow Men right behind. Stephanie was three steps from the yellow car when one of the Hollow Men grabbed her. ~ Derek Landy

His mind had not changed at the same pace as his life, and he felt a hollow space between himself and the person he was supposed to be. He ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune. ~ Andrew Hussie

And she leaves. She opens the door and, without a backward glance, goes out and shuts the door. I stand at the window and watch her go. She vanishes in the shadow of a building. Hands resting on the sill, I gaze for the longest time at where she disappeared. Maybe she forgot something she wanted to say and will come back. But she never does. All that's left is an absence that's like a hollow space. ~ Haruki Murakami

Once it was believed that to bring these creatures to manhood it was enough to feed them, clothe them, and look to their everyday needs; but we see now that the result of this has been to turn out petty shopkeepers, village politicians, hollow technicians devoid of an inner life. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars. ~ Raymond Chandler

A thunder-storm! - the eloquence of heaven, When every cloud is from its slumber riven, Who hath not paused beneath its hollow groan, And felt Omnipotence around him thrown? With what a gloom the ush'ring scene appears! The leaves all shiv'ring with instinctive fears, The waters curling with a fellow dread, A veiling fervour round creation spread, And, last, the heavy rain's reluctant shower, With big drops patt'ring on the tree and bower, While wizard shapes the bowing sky deform, - All mark the coming of the thunder-storm! ~ Robert Montgomery

The good ones all had that hollow space inside. The empty place where the fire always burns. For something. Call it justice. Call it the need to know. Call it the need to believe that those who are evil will not remain hidden in darkness forever. ~ Michael Connelly

Philippa Mitchell was eighteen years old when she left England. She left behind her bedroom, that cocoon of misery in which she'd imprisoned herself; her parents, with their forced, hollow cheerfulness; and the pieces of her heart, smashed to smithereens two years ago with a phone call that came in the middle of the night. ~ F.J. Campbell

There was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,
And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming
And humming Sands, where windy surges wend:
And he called loudly to the stars to bend
From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they
Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story.!
The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still,
Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill.
He fled the persecution of her glory
And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,
Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening.
But naught they heard, for they are always listening,
The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,
And thought, I will my heavy story tell
Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send
Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;
And my own talc again for me shall sing,
And my own whispering words be comforting,
And lo! my ancient burden may depart.
Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;
But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone
Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan
Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him. ~ W.B. Yeats

I take a deep breath. It doesn't begin to fill the void in my chest, a void that's been present since Saturday morning, a painful hollow reminder of my loss. ~ E.L. James

Death bears with it a stain that seeps into the hollow and fills the mind. ~ Kathryn Lasky

Because I expected so little, Gaines's painting is startlingly powerul. A lank-haired blond woman with a hard face sits at akitchen table in the harsh light of a bare bulb. She's surrounded by dirty cereal bowls and fast-food bags, and her shirt is open to the waist, revealing small sagging breasts. Her hollow eyes look out from the canvas with the sullen resignation of an animal that has helped build its own cage. ~ Greg Iles

Was Zeb asking if Silver wanted to come home with him? He had to squeeze the pad hard against his scrape so the pain would shut away the idea of climbing into Zeb's bed. The most horrible part was realizing the longing wasn't centered in Silver's dick, but higher. Something hollow right below his ribs, like the constant gnaw of hunger he remembered from when he'd been living on the street. The thought of being pressed up close to Zeb's skin, the familiar arms around him, the brush of hair against his neck. The idea hurt worse than when Silver had smelled fried food back then. Because there was no way he was ever going to be able to feed this rumble of want. "Oh. Back to Quinn's. I'm still staying with them. ~ K.A. Mitchell

Our current modes of rationality are not moving society forward into a better world. They are taking it further and further from that better world. Since the Renaissance these modes have worked. As long as the need for food, clothing and shelter is dominant they will continue to work. But now that for huge masses of people these needs no longer overwhelm everything else, the whole structure of reason, handed down to us from ancient times, is no longer adequate. It begins to be seen for what it really is ... emotionally hollow, esthetically meaningless and spiritually empty. That, today, is where it is at, and will continue to be at for a long time to come. ~ Robert M. Pirsig

Ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. ~ Washington Irving

Status is hollow without money, words are useless without actions, beauty is ephemeral without heart, and men are incomplete without women. Nowadays, why are men marrying men then?'

My no.7th book is coming soon....! ~ Tim I. Gurung

Above him was a clear blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hollow, crimson float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. ~ Leo Tolstoy

A bulger of a place it is. The number of the ships beat me all hollow, and looked for all the world like a big clearing in the West, with the dead trees all standing. ~ Davy Crockett

I want you so much, I feel like if I don't make you mine soon, then some part of me will break away and disappear into the unknown. Then another will break away and another, until there's nothing left of me at all but a hollow void. A shell of a man. ~ Juliette Cross

The really good thing about 'Sleepy Hollow' is you have no idea who's going to die when ... But then equally, we showed in the pilot several people can come back to life, so you have no idea who's going to come back. Death means very little in our Sleepy Hollow, so expect more surprise deaths and more surprise resurrections. ~ Tom Mison

So hollow and ineffectual, for the most part, is our ordinary conversation. Surface meets surface. When our life ceases to be inward and private, conversation degenerates into mere gossip ... In proportion as our inward life fails, we go more constantly and desperately to the post office. ~ Henry David Thoreau

I cannot say what it was that made me take that one step forward. Maybe it was the hesitation in his voice. I knew what it cost him to let himself speak thus. Maybe it was the memory of how he had looked as he slept. I just knew, overwhelmingly, that if I did not touch him I would shatter in pieces. Jump, cried the wind. Jump over. I shut my eyes and moved toward him, and my arms went around his waist, and I rested my head against his chest and let my tears flow. There, said the voice deep inside me. See how easy it was? Bran went very still; and then his arms came around me, quite cautiously, as if he had never done this before and was not at all sure how one went about it. We stood there awhile, and the feeling was good, so good, like a homecoming after long troubles. Until I held him, I did not realize how much I had longed for it. Until I held him, I did not realize he was just the right height to put his arms comfortably around my shoulders, for me to rest my brow in the hollow of his neck, where the blood pulsed under the skin - a perfect fit. ~ Juliet Marillier

The mountain pine beetle is a tiny creature that chews through a lodgepole's bark, gouges out a hollow in the wood and lays its eggs. The larvae hatch hungry and feed on the cambium layer, a tree's most vital part, the annual layer of cells that makes up a growth ring. To prevent drowning in the tree's sap, the beetle larvae can eject a choking fungus that not only halts the life-giving flow of sap, but stains the wood a grey-blue color. ~ Annie Proulx

In actual fact, conventions are the death of real tradition as they are of all real life. They are parasites which attach themselves to the living organism of tradition and devour all its reality, turning it into a hollow formality.

Tradition is living and active, but convention is passive and dead. Tradition does not form us automatically: we have to work to understand it. Convention is accepted passively, as a matter of routine. Therefore, convention easily becomes an evasion of reality. It offers us only pretended ways of solving the problems of living - a system of gestures and formalities. Tradition really teaches us to live and shows us how to take full responsibility for our own lives. Thus tradition is often flatly opposed to what is ordinary, to what is mere routine. But convention, which is a mere repetition of familiar routines, follows the line of least resistance. One goes through an act, without trying to understand the meaning of it all, merely because everyone else does the same. Tradition, which is always old, is at the same time ever new because it is always reviving - born again in each new generation, to be lived and applied in a new and particular way. Convention is simply the ossification of social customs. The activities of conventional people are merely excuses for NOT acting in a more integrally human way. Tradition nourishes the life of the spirit; convention merely disguises its interior decay. ~ Thomas Merton

She will take your life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and your soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten.' 'Hollow,' whispered the third voice. 'Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow.' 'You ~ Neil Gaiman

Thora is so much simpler. She is a hollow thing with no past no future. No desires. No anger. Only fear. Only obedience ~ Laura Sebastian