Flings Quotes

Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. ~ Susan Lendroth

Oh my God, Rayna…I think something almost happened with Ben and me in Rio."
"What? Wait, back up. When? You mean, 'almost happened' like…what? What exactly almost happened?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "It all went really fast. I was feeling all these things, and he was looking at me like…like he was in that picture, and then…"
"Yeah??"
"I saw Sage."
"Ooooh," Rayna winced. "What did Ben do?"
"Nothing. I mean, I ran after Sage and…you know everything that happened then. We haven't even talked about it." I looked at her plaintively. "What do I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
I thought about it. "I don't know."
"Well…how do you feel? She asked.
"I don't know that either. I never even thought about Ben that way except for that split second in Rio, and even then I wasn't thinking of it seriously. And Sage…with Sage it's all I think about, but it's all jumbled up with the most insane things: dreams, and other lives, and other people's memories, and…I don't even know what's real."
Rayna took it all in.
"I love Ben," she said. "You know that. I think you guys could be great together. I also believe in soulmates. Not just as romantic flings, like the guys in Europe, but true soulmates, destined to be together forever because they're perfect for each other. Are you and Sage true soulmates? I don't know, but I do know you're cheating yourself if you don't at least try to find out."
"How do I find that out, Rayna?"
"I want ~ Hilary Duff

Normally I'd have given up by now, but he was so cute I decided that he was entitled to be difficult. I mean, I may get distracted sometimes, but I always saved a special space at the back of my mind for Sean, like the Presidential Suit at Ritz Carlton. Throughout the first two years of high school, I let him stay there in peace, undisturbed by my meaningless flings which came and went in the hotel lobby. ~ Rainbowbrook

Who is to blame for this most recent of sports disgraces in America? The culture that flings young athletes like Tyson up out of obscurity, makes millionaires of them and watches them self-destruct? ~ Joyce Carol Oates

This is no help," Debs said. "If it's not her blood in there, then ... who the hell flings somebody else's blood on the wall?" "A kidnapper," Special Agent Recht said. "Trying to cover his tracks." Deborah turned and looked at her, and the expression on her face was truly wonderful to see. With just a few rearranged facial muscles and one small raised eyebrow, Debs managed to say, How is it possible that someone this stupid can tie her own shoes and walk among us? ~ Jeff Lindsay

In good truth he had started in London with some vague idea that as his life in it would not be of long continuance, the pace at which he elected to travel would be of little consequence; but the years since his first entry into the Metropolis were now piled one on top of another, his youth was behind him, his chances of longevity, spite of the way he had striven to injure his constitution, quite as good as ever. He had come to that period of existence, to that narrow strip of tableland, whence the ascent of youth and the descent of age are equally discernible - when, simply because he has lived for so many years, it strikes a man as possible he may have to live for just as many more, with the ability for hard work gone, with the boon companions scattered, with the capacity for enjoying convivial meetings a mere memory, with small means perhaps, with no bright hopes, with the pomp and the circumstance and the fairy carriages, and the glamour which youth flings over earthly objects, faded away like the pageant of yesterday, while the dreary ceremony of living has to be gone through today and tomorrow and the morrow after, as though the gay cavalcade and the martial music, and the glittering helmets and the prancing steeds were still accompanying the wayfarer to his journey's end.
Ah! my friends, there comes a moment when we must all leave the coach with its four bright bays, its pleasant outside freight, its cheery company, its guard who blows the horn so merrily through ~ Charlotte Riddell

I'm not one for flings, I can tell you that. ~ Julian Lennon

O'Shaughnessy is hitting Denholt on the side of his head with his free arm, great, walloping, pile-driver blows. The two of them stagger together, like partners in a crazy dance. Glass is breaking all around them. Gray smoke from the six shots, pink-and-white dust from the chipped brick-and-plaster walls, swirl around them in a rainbow haze. Something vividly green flares up from one of the overturned retorts, goes right out again. O'Shaughnessy tears the emptied gun away, flings it off somewhere. More breaking glass, and this time a tart pungent smell that makes the nostrils sting. The crunch of pulverized tube glass underfoot makes it sound as if they were scuffling in sand or hard-packed snow. ("Jane Brown's Body") ~ Cornell Woolrich

The other sources, even when they mention Hel, rarely describe it. But when they do, it's cast in neutral or even positive terms. For example, the mention that the land of the dead is "green and beautiful" in Ibn Fadlan's account is mirrored in a passage from Saxo (The medieval Danish historian, as you likely recall). In Saxo's telling of the story of Hadding, the hero travels to the "Underworld" and finds a "fair land where green herbs grow when it is winter on earth." His companion even beheads a rooster just outside of that land and flings its carcass over the wall, at which point the bird cries out and comes back to life - a feat which is highly reminiscent of another detail from Ibn Fadlan, namely the beheading of a rooster and a hen whose bodies are then tossed into the dead man's boat shortly before it's set aflame. In both cases, the emphasis is on abundant life in the world of the dead, even when death and absence prevail on earth. ~ Daniel McCoy

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,- When he beats his bars and would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings- I know why the caged bird sings! ~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

Bearing in his right paw the shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances, cut the roots of useless attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war; His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display - indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma ... ~ Gary Snyder

[Hitler] has grasped the falsity of the hedonistic attitude to life. Nearly all western thought since the last war, certainly all "progressive" thought, has assumed tacitly that human beings desire nothing beyond ease, security, and avoidance of pain. In such a view of life there is no room, for instance, for patriotism and the military virtues. Hitler, because in his own joyless mind he feels it with exceptional strength, knows that human beings don't only want comfort, safety, short working-hours, hygiene, birth-control and, in general, common sense; they also, at least intermittently, want struggle and self-sacrifice, not to mention drums, flag and loyalty-parades ... Whereas Socialism, and even capitalism in a grudging way, have said to people "I offer you a good time," Hitler has said to them "I offer you struggle, danger and death," and as a result a whole nation flings itself at his feet ~ George Orwell

The clown is a creature of chaos. His appearance is an affront to our sense of dignity, his actions a mockery of our sense of order. The clown (freedom) is always being chased by the policeman (authority). Clowns are funny precisely because their shy hopes lead invariably to brief flings of (exhilarating?) disorder followed by crushing retaliation from the status quo. It delights us to watch a careless clown break taboos; it thrills us vicariously to watch him run wild and free; it reassures us to see him slapped down and order restored. After all, we can condone liberty only up to a point. Consider Jesus as a ragged, nonconforming clown
laughed at, persecuted and despised
playing out the dumb show at his crucifixion against the responsible pretensions of authority. ~ Tom Robbins

To be a Christian is not a pious pose. It is not a long list of restrictions. Christianity flings open the windows to the real joy of living. Those who have been truly converted to Jesus Christ know the meaning of abundant living. ~ Billy Graham

He was always greedy; though what he grasps with one hand he flings away wit the other. ~ Emily Bronte

See, the thing is, I don't do flings. I don't mess around, I don't have affairs, I don't usually go out on a date with a person unless they're someone I think I could get serious about. I just don't operate that way, because I'm not very casual about my love life. Or my sex life. Those aren't separate things for me. ~ Elle Parker

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. ~ William Shakespeare

But at that moment all I could see was the wolf in the white van, so alive, so strong. Hidden from view, unnoticed, concealed. And I thought, maybe he's real, this wolf, and he's really out there in a white van somewhere, riding around. Maybe he's in the far back, pacing back and forth, circling, the pads of his huge paws raw and cracking, his thick, sharp claws dully clicking against the raised rusty steel track ridges on the floor. Maybe he's sound asleep, or maybe he's just pretending. And then the van stops somewhere, maybe, and somebody gets out and walks around the side to the back and grabs hold of the handle and flings the doors open wide. Maybe whoever's kept him wears a mechanic's jumpsuit and some sunglasses, and he hasn't fed the great wolf for weeks, cruising the streets of the city at night, and the wolf's crazy with hunger now; he can't even think. Maybe he's not locked up in the back at all: he could be riding in the passenger seat, like a dog, just sitting and staring out the open window, looking around, checking everybody out. Maybe he's over in the other seat behind the steering wheel. Maybe he's driving. ~ John Darnielle

Ultimately, eventually, we let go. We do this not because we're ready. We do this not because we've mended. We do this not because we've mourned and come to terms and gotten over it and moved on. We never move on. We don't let go so much as lose our grip and fall because remembering is not enough..memory is imperfect. It is full of holes. It is more space than matter, like lace. It is at once sodden with sorrow and desiccated from lack of blood flow, the obvious result of a broken heart. It makes things up in hopeless attempts to comfort itself. It fills fissure with fantasy. It screws shut its eyes and balls up its fists and flings itself to the ground in a kicking, screaming, blind-rage temper tantrum against reality. But mostly,..memory keeps taking on more. ~ Laurie Frankel

I really hope you like this," he says again, and flings open the door.
It's a glass room, a greenhouse, I realize. Within are tulips, hundreds, of all colors. Tulips bloom in the middle of July in Desi's lake house. In their own special room for a very special girl.
"I know tulips are your favorite, but the season is so short," Desi said. "So I fixed that for you. They'll bloom year-round. ~ Gillian Flynn

Oh how the family affections combat
Within this heart, and each hour flings a bomb at
My burning soul! Neither from owl nor from bat
Can peace be gained until I clasp my wombat. ~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti

One reason I avoid the American TV talk show circuit, when I'm over there, is that the tabloids and the gossip mill are always churning with new, true, or untrue stories about new loves, old loves, pending marriages, divorces, trial separations, flings and affairs with people of every description. I'm not into any of that. ~ George Harrison

And I was afraid. She frightens me because she can knock me down with a word. Because she does not know that writing is walking on a dizzying silence setting one word after the other on emptiness. Writing is miraculous and terrifying like the flight of a bird who has no wings but flings itself out and only gets wings by flying. ~ Helene Cixous

Every life has dark tracts and long stretches of somber tint, and no representation is true to fact which dips its pencil only in light, and flings no shadows on the canvas. ~ Alexander MacLaren

White Chocolate. Intense, sweet. But not deep. Okay for prom dates or flings, but not to get serious..Milk chocolates are guys you could date for like a few months, and dark chocolates are for love. ~ E. Lockhart

There was something savage and elemental and feral in him. The fact that he was a savant only added to the intrigue.
I always go for the dangerous boys, Leesha thought. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

persistent, flowing through fallen shadows,
excavating tunnels, drilling silences,
insisting, running under my pillow,
brushing past my temples, covering my eyelids
with another, intangible skin made of air,
its wandering nations, its drowsy tribes
migrate through the provinces of my body,
it crosses, re-crosses under the bridges of my bones,
slips into my left ear, spills out from my right,
climbs the nape of my neck,
turns and turns in my skull,
wanders across the terrace of my forehead,
conjures visions, scatters them,
erases my thoughts one by one
with hands of unwetting water,
it evaporates them,
black surge, tide of pulse-beats,
murmur of water groping forward
repeating the same meaningless syllable,
I hear its sleepwalking delirium
losing itself in serpentine galleries of echoes,
it comes back, drifts off, comes back,
endlessly flings itself
off the edges of my cliffs,
and I don't stop falling
and I fall ~ Octavio Paz

She sorts out her lipstick with a glance in the hall mirror, her free hand simultaneously pointing out rogue books and magazines that suddenly, urgently need me to tidy them. She ducks into her bedroom, rummages noisily, makes a brief appearance in the hallway in what can only be described as a Poncho. 'No,' she says. 'No.' And she balls it up and flings it back through her bedroom door. I want to medicate her. One of those tranquilliser darts they use to bring down big cats would do.

- Joel ~ Rebecca Sparrow

I've fallen into so many flings because I've always felt that I must explore! I must have adventures! I only live once! But there were a lot of mistakes in that waiting room. Only a handful loved me, but those were the ones I never loved back. ~ Jessica Pan

Stop worrying about when this ends. You can't tell me the thought hasn't crossed your mind that it won't. ~ Scarlet Wolfe

Where do any of us come from in this cold country? Oh Canada, whether you admitted it or not, we come from you we come from you. From the same soil, the slugs and slime and bogs and twigs and roots. We come from the country that plucks its people out like weeds and flings them into the roadside. We grow in ditches and sloughs, untended and spindly. We erupt in the valleys and mountainsides, in small towns and back alleys, sprouting upside-down on the prairies, our hair wild as spiders' legs, our feet rooted nowhere. We grow where we are not seen, we flourish where we are not heard, the thick undergrowth of an unlikely planting. Where do we come from Obasan? We come from cemetaries full of skeletons with wild roses in their grinning teeth. We come from our untold tales that wait for their telling. We come from Canada, this land that is like every land, filled with the wise, the fearful, the compassionate, the corrupt. ~ Joy Kogawa

Are you looking for something real in this world of illusions? Call me. Casual Flings need not apply. I am looking for Love. ~ Aprilynne Pike

Having judged, condemned, abandoned his cultural forms, his language, his food habits, his sexual behavior, his way of sitting down, of resting, of laughing, of enjoying himself, the oppressed flings himself upon the imposed culture with the desperation of a drowning man.
Developing his technical knowledge in contact with more and more perfected machines, entering into the dynamic circuit of industrial production, meeting men from remote regions in the framework of the concentration of capital, that is to say, on the job, discovering the assembly line, the team, production �time,� in other words yield per hour, the oppressed is shocked to find that he continues to be the object of racism and contempt.

It is at this level that racism is treated as a question of persons.

�There are a few hopeless racists, but you must admit that on the whole the population likes….�

�With time all this will disappear.�

�This is the country where there is the least amount of race prejudice.�

�At the United Nations there is a commission to fight race prejudice.�

Films on race prejudice, poems on race prejudice, messages on race prejudice.

Spectacular and futile condemnations of race prejudice. In reality, a colonial country is a racist country. If in England, in Belgium, or in France, despite the democratic principles affirmed by these respective nations, there are still racists, it is these racists who, in their opp ~ Frantz Fanon

A vice sanctioned by the general opinion is merely a vice. The evil terminates in itself. A vice condemned by the general opinion produces a pernicious effect on the whole character. The former is a local malady; the latter, constitutional taint. When the reputation of the offender is lost, he too often flings the remainder of his virtue after it in despair. ~ Thomas B. Macaulay

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. ~ Lord Byron

Job tries to comfort himself with philosophical pessimism like the intellectuals of the nineteenth century. But God comforts Job with indecipherable mystery, and for the first time Job is comforted. . . . Job flings at God one riddle, God flings back at Job a hundred riddles, and Job is at peace. He is comforted with conundrums. ~ G.K. Chesterton

in their supposed innocence of and opposition to empire, have become the mythic progenitors of the United States - almost as improbably as Solomon was of Ethiopia or Aeneas of Rome or his suppositious brother, Brut, of Britain. But almost everything most Americans think about the Plymouth colonists of 1620 is false. The truth is more credible. The first colonists in Massachusetts, exchanging accusations of "bestial, yea, diabolical affectations," were as divided and conflicted as people usually are when fate flings them together. Their leaders did not seek ~ Felipe Fernandez-Armesto

Late twenties, single, female. Do the math.
Flirty flings were fabulous until you hit the big three-O, all downhill
from there. Biological clocks started ticking like time bombs waiting to
detonate, gravity exerted more force on your life than your mom, and
suddenly, the dog-ugliest creep looked like Jake Gyllenhaal. ~ Nicola Marsh

I had fun. That's what I believe in. Fun, flings, the sizzle. It starts as a shiver, when you see a man for the first time. And then he meets your eye and the shiver runs down your back and becomes a sizzle in your stomach and you think 'I want to dance with that man.' You dance, you have a cocktail or two, you flirt. ~ Sophie Kinsella

What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time. ~ Virginia Woolf

The kid, whose existence became a hallucination at seven, and a catastrophe at fourteen, and a disaster after that, whose vocation is to be neither a waitress nor a hooker nor a farmer nor a janitor, but forever the stepdaughter to a lascivious stepfather and the undefended offspring of a self-obsessed mother, the kid, who mistrusts everyone, sees the con in everyone and yet is protected against nothing, whose capacity to hold on unintimidated is enormous, and yet whose purchase on life is minute, misfortune's favorite embattled child, the kid to whom everything loathsome that can happen has happened and whose luck shows no sign of changing and yet who excites and arouses him like nobody since Steena, not the most but morally speaking the least repellant person he knows, the one to whom he feels drawn because of having been aimed for so long in the opposite direction, because of all he has missed by going in the opposite direction, and because the underlying feeling of rightness that controlled him formerly is exactly what is propelling him now, the unlikely intimate with whom he shares no less a spiritual than a physical union, who is anything but a plaything, upon whom he flings his body twice a week in order to sustain his animal nature, who is more to him like a comrade in arms than anyone else on earth. ~ Philip Roth

What has here happened is that the instinct of cruelty, which has turned inwards, has become self-torture, and all man's animal instincts have been reinterpreted as guilt towards God. Every Nay man utters to his nature, to his real being, he flings out as a Yea, an affirmation of reality applied to God's sanctity ~ Georg Brandes

But china is seldom thrown from a great height; it is one of the rarest of human actions. You have to find in conjunction a very high house, and a woman of such reckless impulse and passionate prejudice that she flings her jar or pot straight from the window without thought of who is below. ~ Virginia Woolf

...and the smells, you know, the smells- I mean, if only our customers knew; they haven't got a clue about the greatness of these things when they buy them the next morning; you see, when the muffins come down the conveyor belt, and they're thrown from their pockets in the rack pans as the belt turns down-well, this paddlewheel action, if you're standing right there, flings this absolutely amazing hot aroma right into your face-from the Oat Brans, from the Banana-Rhubarbs, especially from the Double Double Chocolates; and then the muffins themselves are so warm and nice-shaped, like these great little trumpet mutes of cake like texture, and you're feeling this kind of glistening inside your cheeks, this liquidy glowing, and you're thinking that these muffins would, you know, just fit so well right in your fist, where you could take them and shove them sugar-warm right into your face-just fill up your mouth and chew and chomp, densely, sweet-texturedly, liquidly ... ; and then, you know, while you're sweet-chomping, it would be like you could smell them with your entire mouth, with your entire sinuses, with your pores...; but all this is gone by the time the muffins are distributed to the delis and diners in the morning, all dead and cold and dry; in fact, no one out there even has the beginning of a clue how good this shit is; ~ Evan Dara

Where visual artists are concerned, the Baroque sculptor and architect Bernini and the painter and sculptor Picasso were clearly adept at both experiential and instrumental attending, says Tellegen, as is the modern architect Frank Gehry. Choosing a literary example, he says that F. Scott Fitzgerald once admitted to "wrapping one of his romantic flings in cellophane" for later artistic use and notes that "this kind of heartless but honest professionalism is not uncommon among creative people. ~ Winifred Gallagher

Affairs are the stuff movies are made of; flings are for TV. ~ Gisela Hausmann

An apt quotation is like a lamp which flings its light over the whole sentence. ~ Letitia Elizabeth Landon

I have no problem with being fabulous. My problem comes when you won't allow yourself to be an ordinary woman with a decent apartment and an okay job. When only the mom is allowed to be boring - because her life is so rich with meaning.

When I carefully choreographed the story of how amazing I was, I was acting like one of those helicopter parents - you know, the ones who refuse to admit that their Jackson might suck at math or Stella might not be the world's greatest violinist. 'You are special! You are special!' they cry to their children, hoping this will boost their confidence. But the real message is one of panic: You must be special. Ordinary is not okay. When I walked into a party projecting the Shiny Girl - she of the lighthearted flings and glitzy job - I was essentially doing the same thing. ~ Sara Eckel

Whirl man's mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought! ~ Ray Bradbury

It is fathomless, since it is God. One flings into that well the labor of one's whole life, one flings in one's fortune, one flings in one's riches, one flings in one's success, one flings in one's liberty or fatherland, one flings in one's well-being, one flings in one's repose, one flings in one's joy! More! more! more! Empty the vase! tip the urn! One must finish by flinging in one's heart. ~ Victor Hugo

IN APRIL Again the woods are odorous, the lark Lifts on upsoaring wings the heaven gray That hung above the tree-tops, veiled and dark, Where branches bare disclosed the empty day. After long rainy afternoons an hour Comes with its shafts of golden light and flings Them at the windows in a radiant shower, And rain drops beat the panes like timorous wings. Then all is still. The stones are crooned to sleep By the soft sound of rain that slowly dies; And cradled in the branches, hidden deep In each bright bud, a slumbering silence lies. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

All those other flings I've had are just ashes in the wind, scattered and forgotten. But you . . . you're the real thing. The fire that keeps burning in my life. You're the one. There's no one else I feel this connected to. And if I could do all those things, stay with you, make love - with the lights on - tell you everything that weighs on me, I would. ~ Richelle Mead

...He's a wonderful person and I'd fall head over heels in love with him if I haven't already, there's no doubt about it. And there's no doubt that he'd eventually leave me. There's no way anything between us would go somewhere. I'm done with flings. I want the next thing--the real thing. ~ Karyn Bosnak

Hesperus, you are
The most fetching star.
What Dawn flings afield
You bring back together -
Sheep to the fold, goats to the pen,
And the child to his mother again.

Nightingale,
All you sing
Is desire;
You are the crier
Of coming spring ~ Sappho

In a world of increasing complexity, the simple man walks alone. Knowing his ways are not of the world. Refusing to complicate and confuse those things which he knows to be true. Love is that which he seeks. Fear he flings aside. To stand tall before his creator and know that he is blessed beyond measure. ~ Sean Fairburn

At Harvard I was taking an African-American studies class, and we were reading about the tragic mulatto. Invariably, the tragic mulatto can't fit in either world and flings herself off a bridge. So I'm reading, and I'm like, 'Oh, my God, I think I'm in literature,' but my life was never like that. ~ Soledad O'Brien

It's the crudest insult he could fling at me, yet I manage to remain calm because nothing he says can hurt me now. I simply don't care. Instead I laugh. "You know, I've just realized something about you. You really are a bastard." "At least I'm not the one who wants to fuck the bush guide." "How do you know I haven't already?" He flings himself onto his side, turning his back to me. ~ Tess Gerritsen

Tis Fate that flings the dice,
And as she flings
Of kings makes peasants,
And of peasants kings. ~ John Dryden

Louis can't catch his breath.
Neither can Harry.
Why isn't there more air?
Harry must have taken it with him.
"Not with you," Harry says one last time before he practically flings himself out the door, slamming it behind him, and leaving Louis alone, framed in the window, suffocating. ~ Velvetoscar

There is one hour in his life when we see a flash of utter physical action on Christ's part, an hour when this most curious of men must have experienced the sheer joyous exuberance of a young mammal in full flight: when he lets himself go and flings over the first money changer's table in the Temple at Jerusalem, coins flying, doves thrashing into the air, oxen bellowing, sheep yowling, the money changer going head-over-teakettle, all heads turning, what the...? You don't think Christ got a shot of utter childlike physical glee at that moment? Too late to stop now, his rage rushing to his head, his veiny carpenter's-son wiry arms and hard feet milling as he whizzes through the Temple overturning tables, smashing birdcages, probably popping a furious money-changer here and there with a quick left jab or a well-placed Divine Right Elbow to the money-lending teeth, whipping his scourge of cords against the billboard-size flank of an ox, men scrambling to get out of the way, to grab some of the flying coins, to get a punch in on this nutty rube causing all the ruckus...

In all this holy rage and chaos, don't you think there was a little absolute boyish mindless physical jittery joy in the guy? ~ Brian Doyle

A crystalline moment shatters, and the world is a different place. Where there was confinement, now there is release. Recoiling from my sudden liberation, my left arm flings downcanyon, opening my shoulders to the south, and I fall back against the northern wall of the canyon, my mind is surfing on euphoria. As I stare at the wall where not twelve hours ago I etched "RIP OCT 75 ARON APR 03," a voice shouts in my head:
I AM FREE! ~ Aron Ralston