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Hung Quotes

“To be connected with the church is to be associated with scoundrels, warmongers, fakes, child-molesters, murderers, adulterers, and hypocrites of every description. It also, at the same time, identifies you with saints and the finest persons of heroic soul within every time, country, race, and gender. To be a member of the church is to carry the mantle of both the worst sin and the finest heroism of soul . . . because the church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among thieves.”

LooksChildrenPersonsSoulCountryChurchSinRaceWorstMembersOriginalsSaintGenderConnectedFakeDescriptionHeroicThievesHeroismHungFinestMurdererHypocriteCrucifixionScoundrelsWarmongersRace And Gender
Author:Ronald Rolheiser
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“I used to like people more, but now I have children and that changes your life in a lot of ways. Like you spend time with people you never would have chosen to spend time with, not in a million years. I spend whole days with people, I'm like, "I never would have hung out with you. I didn't choose you. Our children chose each other based on no criteria by the way. They're the same size. They don't care who they make me hang out with."”

PeopleThinkingWayYearsChildrenWholeCareUsedMillionsLaughingLike YouOur ChildrenSizeDon't CareChosenHanging OutHungEnd TimesChanging Your LifeSpend TimeCriteria
Author:Louis C. K.
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“That, you know, is why the world exists at all. It remains outside the cosmic garbage can of nothingness, not because it is such a solemn necessity that nobody can get rid of it, but because it is the orange peel hung on God's chandelier, the wishbone in His kitchen closet. He likes it; therefore, it stays. The whole marvelous collection of stones, skins, feathers, and string exists because at least one lover has never quite taken His eye off it, because the Dominus vivificans has his delight with the sons of men.”

KnowsMenWorldLoveWholeEyeAgeTakenSonLoversStonesSkinsRemainsDelightLikesKitchenHis EyesCollectionsStringsCosmicHungMarvelousNothingnessClosetsOrangeFeathersOne LoveGarbageNever QuitSolemnGarbage CansChandeliersWishbones
Author:Robert Farrar Capon
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“Mr. Jamrach led me through the lobby and into the menagerie. The first was a parrot room, a fearsome screaming place of mad round eyes, crimson breasts that beat against bars, wings that flapped against their neighbours, blood red, royal blue, gypsy yellow, grass green. The birds were crammed along perches. Macaws hung upside down here and there, batting their white eyes, and small green parrots flittered above our heads in drifts. A hot of cockatoos looked down from on high over the shrill madness, high crested, creamy breasted. The screeching was like laughter in hell.”

FirstsEyeWhiteRoomsHellBloodBeatsLaughterBirdRedMadnessHotBlueGreenMadWingsRoundsBarsGrassBreastsYellowHungRoyalHere And ThereNeighbourUpside DownGypsyParrotsBattingCrimsonMenagerieRoyal Blue
Author:Carol Birch
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“He scarce had ceased when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield Ethereal temper, massy, large and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fésolè, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe.”

MovingScienceArtistViewsBehindsLandMoonMountainRiversRoundsCastsGlassesShouldersSuperiorsEveningBroadsShoreTemperGlobesHungShieldsScarceEtherealParadise Lost Book 9OrbsParadise Lost Book 1
Book:The complete poetical works of John Milton, with life
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“And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart-a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there-and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples.”

WayStillsDoneBodyNightThreeSimpleMorningSunPiecesFlowerBrokenOne DayDiseasePaperGreenLaysSnowDirtyOver YouStationsYellowSugarHungBentCoalRiceFranklinCrackedLumpsStreaksSprungClustersMapleSnowmanSprung Up
Author:Steven Millhauser
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“My agent called and said, 'How do you feel about a pirate movie? I mean, how often are you going to get that call? It's sort of the singularly most failed genre of our time, but I thought it had to be attempted one more time. I think there's something rebellious about pirates, something revolutionary about them. They came out of a time when things were oppressive; you could get hung for stealing a loaf of bread. For me, the Pirates films are about when it's right to break the rules to achieve what you want.”

ThinkingWantFeelsMeanSaidFilmBreakAchieveWhat You WantStealingBreadAgentsGenreRevolutionaryOur TimeMore TimeHungRebelliousPirate
Author:Gore Verbinski
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“How does life become totally painful By total retreat. Total noninspection becomes total pain.But existence is basically composed of a very few truths onto which have hung a great many artificialities and which man has adorned with enormous numbers of lies. And man is prisoner of his own shadows. Now one of the things you can do with man is to get him to look up and find out that he can look through the shadows and look at the shadows and find out what they are.”

MenLooksDoePainLyingCan DoNumbersExistenceShadowPainfulEnormousLook UpGreat MenPrisonerHungRetreatArtificiality
Author:L. Ron Hubbard
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“Every generation has its war. I have just been reminded of mine. It ended in 1989, 43 years after it began, the longest war Britain fought and certainly the most expensive. Its climax was total victory. Yet there was no parade, no medals, no colours hung in cathedrals. The Cold War saw no battles and cost almost no blood. Where there is no blood there is no glory and hence no history. Asked What did you do in the war, Daddy?, I could say only that I paid my taxes and left it at that.”

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Author:Simon Jenkins
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“On April 2, the nurses started my first round of five intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIG) infusions. The clear IV bags hung on a metal pole above my head, their liquid trickling down into my vein. Each of those ordinary-looking bags contained the healthy antibodies of over a thousand blood donors and cost upwards of $20,000 per infusion. One thousand tourniquets, one thousand nurses, one thousand veins, one thousand blood-sugar regulating cookies, all just to help one patient.”

FirstsHelpingClearFiveBloodHealthyCostThousandOrdinaryPatientRoundsBagsMetalsNurseSugarHungVeinsCookiesAprilLiquidDonorsInfusionBlood SugarAntibodies
Book:Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness
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“There's something retro about your persona. It's like the pre-World War II generation of reporters - those unpretentious, working-class guys who hung around saloons and used rough language. Now they've all been replaced with these effete Ivy League elitists who swarm over the current media. Nerds - utterly dull and insipid.”

WorldWarUsedGuyPoliticsLanguageClassGenerationsMediaCurrentsLeagueWar Of The WorldsDullRoughWorld War IiWorld War IHungReplacedReportersWorking ClassNerdPersonaIvyElitistSwarmsInsipidRetroSaloonsIvy League
Author:Camille Paglia
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“Blackened skeleton arms of wood by the wayside pointed upward to the convent, as if the ghosts of former travellers, overwhelmed by the snow, haunted the scene of their distress. Icicle-hung caves and cellars built for refuges from sudden storms, were like so many whispers of the perils of the place; never-resting wreaths and mazes of mist wandered about, hunted by a moaning wind; and snow, the besetting danger of the mountain, against which all its defences were taken, drifted sharply down.”

IfsTakenDangerWindArmsSceneMountainBuiltWoodsStormGhostSnowFormerRefugeHungDistressCavesOverwhelmedPerilDefenceMistTravellerSkeletonsMazesHuntedCellarsMoaningWreathsIcicles
Book:The Complete Works of Charles Dickens: Little Dorrit
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“Are you not moved to tears and bitter compassion, when you behold the only Son of God seized by the most impious, dragged away, mocked, scourged, buffeted, spit upon, crowned with thorns, hung upon the infamous cross between two thieves, finally in such a horrible and execrable manner suffering death, for your salvation and that of the world?”

WorldTwoSufferingCompassionTearsSonCrossesMovedSalvationHorribleBitterThievesHungSpitThornsInfamousOnly Son
Author:Peter Abelard
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“What attracted me about my mirrors was the idea of having nothing manipulated in them. A piece of bought mirror. Just hung there, without any addition, to operate immediately and directly. Even at the risk of being boring. Mere demonstration. The mirrors, and even more the Panes of Glass, were also certainly directed against Duchamp, against his Large Glass.”

ArtIdeasPiecesRiskPaintingMirrorsMereGlassesBoringHungDemonstration
Book:Gerhard Richter: text : writings, interviews and letters, 1961-2007
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