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Broken Quotes

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Broken Quotes

“Not by way of the forced and worn formula of Romaticism, but throught the closeness of an imagination that has never broken kinship with nature. Art must accept such gifts, and revaluate the giver.”

Way Art Imagination Accepting Broken Formulas Worn Giver Closeness Kinship

Book:Crit Temp Alain Locke: A Selection of His Essays on Art and Culture

Source: Crit Temp Alain Locke: A Selection of His Essays on Art and Culture

“Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest, When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before. What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie?”

Men Eye Care Past Mother Girl Rich Broken West South Rounds Lips Affection East Boards Links Gray Guests Worn Pie Pilgrim Pumpkin Thanksgiving Day North And South Pumpkin Pie

Author:John Greenleaf Whittier

“There are many ways that we grow, but there are two major ways: We shed what no longer works, or we're broken open. If we're unwilling to shed, then we will be broken open. Through shedding, we are worn down, just as nature is eroded to its beauty. I think that through suffering, human beings are eroded to our beauty.”

Ifs Thinking Way Humans Two Suffering Grows Human Beings Broken Majors Shed Worn Unwilling

Author:Mark Nepo

“That is what they call being reconciled to die. They call it reconciled when pain has strummed a symphony of suffering back and forth across you, up and down, round and round you until each little fibre is worn tissue-thin with aching. And when you are lying beaten, and buffeted, battered and broken - pain goes out, joins hands with Death and comes back to dance, dance, dance, stamp, stamp, stamp down on you until you give up.”

Source: Frye Street & environs: the collected works of Marita Bonner

“It was the peculiar artifice of Habit not to suffer her power to be felt at first. Those whom she led, she had the address of appearing only to attend, but was continually doubling her chains upon her companions; which were so slender in themselves, and so silently fastened, that while the attention was engaged by other objects, they were not easily perceived. Each link grew tighter as it had been longer worn; and when by continual additions they became so heavy as to be felt, they were very frequently too strong to be broken.”

Source: The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.: D., with an Essay on His Life and Genius

“The landscape was snow and green ice on broken mountains. These weren't old mountains, worn down by time and weather and full of gentle ski slopes, but young, sulky, adolescent mountains. They held secret ravines and merciless crevices. One yodel out of place would attract, not the jolly echo of a lonely goatherd, but fifty tons of express-delivery snow.”

Young Secret Broken Mountain Lonely Green Snow Weather Ice Landscape Gentle Fifty Worn Echoes Delivery Skis Slopes Jolly Crevice Sulky

Book:Reaper Man: (Discworld Novel 11)

Source: Reaper Man: (Discworld Novel 11)

“I was worn out, broken: He had taken almost everything. But he'd been all I'd had, all this time. And when the police led him away, I pulled out of the hands of all these loved one, sobbing, screaming, everything hurting, to try and make him stay.”

Trying Hands Hurt Taken Broken Police Loved Ones Worn Worn Out Sobbing

Book:Dreamland

Source: Dreamland

“If she possessed any memory whatsoever of the days when she'd been whole, her shattered recollections were scattered across the darkscape of her mind in fragments so minuscule that she could no more easily piece them together than she could gather from the beach all the tiny chips of broken seashells, worn to polished flakes by ages of relentless tides, and reassemble them into their original architectures.”

Source: One Door Away from Heaven: A Novel

“And yet every so often, the heart of America, shuddering with indignation, sends a nervous spasm through the gentle back of the Andes, and tumultuous shock waves assault the surface of the land. Three times the cuppola of proud Santo Domingo has collapsed from on high to the rhythm of broken bones and its worn walls have opened and fallen too. But the foundations they rest on are unmoved, the great blocks of the Temple of the Sun exhibit their gray stone indifferently; however colossal the disaster befalling its oppressor, not one of its huge rocks shifts from its place.”