Cut Me Down Famous Quotes & Sayings
100 Cut Me Down Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
Make love to me, Echo. I've never made love."No way. Noah's experienced reputation walked down the hallway before he did. "But ... "— Katie McGarry
Noah cut me off with a kiss. "Yes, but never love. Just girls who didn't mean anything" You ... " His tongue teased my bottom lip, thawing my body. "Are everything.
What really counted was the possibility of escape, a leap of freedom, out of the implacable ritual, a wild run for it that would give whatever chance for hope there was. Of course, hope meant being cut down on some street corner, as you ran like mad, by a random bullet. But when I really thought it through, nothing was going to allow me such a luxury. Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.— Albert Camus
I mean, in the last few months alone, I've been pinned in a big set of white-water rapids, been bitten by an angry snake in a jungle, had a close escapewith a big mountain rockfall, narrowly avoided being eaten by a huge croc in the Australian swamps, and had to cut away from my main parachute and come down on my reserve, some five thousand feet above the Arctic plateau.— Bear Grylls
When did all this craziness become my world?
It's as if - almost accidentally - this madness had become my life. And don't get me wrong - I love it all.
The game, though, now, is to hang on to that life.
Every day is the most wonderful of blessings, and a gift that I never, ever take for granted.
Oh, and as for the scars, broken bones, aching limbs and sore back?
I consider them just gentle reminders that life is precious - and that maybe, just maybe, I am more fragile than I dare to admit.
Truth is to be found in dreams," the King said, looking down at them. From this angle, Emma could see that the odd splitting of his face ended at his throat, which was ordinary skin. "Tell me, Shadowhunters: You enter a cave. Inside the cave is an egg, lit from within and glowing. You know that it beats with your dreams--not the ones you have during the day, but the ones you half-remember in the morning. It splits open. What emerges?"— Cassandra Clare
"A rose," said Mark. "With thorns."
Christina cut her eyes toward him in surprise, but remained motionless. "An angel," she said. "With bloody hands."
"A knife," said Emma. "Pure and clean."
"Bars," Julian said quietly. "The bars of a prison cell.
To stop smoking was actually really easy because I had already started to cut down. My husband is asthmatic, and he just can't for the life of him imagine why anybody would put smoke in their mouth, so he really helped me to start cutting down.— Holly Marie Combs
The man behind the counter at the donut store had been somewhat less than courteous ever since I had prematurely tried to hypnotize him during my first month of practice. Now as I re-entered the donut store he fixed me with a chilly glare. I sauntered up to the counter, then I threw upon him my hypnotizingest glare. "You are getting sleep," I told him. "No, you are getting sleepy," he retorted, his hypnotic eyes boring into mine. The son-of-a-bitch had been studying hypnotism too! "You are a young Georage Washington, and you've been chopping down the cherry tree," I asserted, and he became the boy President. "I cannot tell a lie," he piped in a childish voice. But it didn't last, and he shook my control free. "You are Anne Boleyn," he said, and it was true! "Don't cut off my head!" I begged...— Michael Kupperman
His dark eyes challenged me. They were weapons that could hurt me. Here was the worst thing about them: I could tell that if Johnafter loved you, his dark eyes would be beautiful and friendly and warm. So every time he cut me down with a look that was cold and unfriendly and ugly, it was a double insult, a reminder of what I could never have. I found myself avoiding his dark eyes when I could.— Jennifer Echols
A PICNIC IS NOT AN ADVENTURE!— Miranda Hart
Excuse me, but at thirty-eight and over six foot, trying to sit cross-legged on the ground to eat a meal is a total adventure. Have you ever attempted to eat with a plastic knife and fork, off a paper plate, while balancing the plate on your knee? And in company? That's an adventure. I tried to cut into my pork pie and the knife broke, then my Scotch egg rolled off the plate and into some mud. What does one do in that situation? Wipe off the mud, and eat it anyway? Risky. I peeled off the meaty outside and ate the boiled egg. Result. And, once, on the beach, I sat down with fish and chips (not strictly a picnic, but still hardcore al fresco eating) and a seagull swooped down and took the whole fish from my box! It was terrifying. So don't you go telling me that picnics aren't an adventure, thanking you muchly.
I've been cut down, destroyed, and demolished. Someone once told me that the human mind is like a temple. A sound structure. Compiled by bricks, cement, and straw.— Lauren Hammond
Built by sweating slaves after hours and hours of back-breaking labor.
But I disagree ... I disagree because even the most sound and well-built structures can crumble.
I've had days where I felt like my mind was crumbling in the palms of my hands and I was frantic, with fear and desperate with trembling fingers to put the pieces back together.
I felt like that until my husband saved me.
I want to cherish the way I feel about Elijah forever.
... made me promise to cut down on the drinking and swearing, which I have. Unfortunately, this has left me dim-witted and nearly speechless.— Nelson DeMille
Here," he growled and I blinked.— Kristen Ashley
"Deacon, I'm not a big fan of - "
"Future," he cut me off. "Assert your feminism when I'm not three seconds away from fuckin' you on your porch. I come to you, that's gonna happen. You come to me, maybe it won't."
Maybe?
I didn't ask that.
I asked , "So if you get your way and I come to you, you can miraculously control your base instincts?"
His reply?
"One."
My body jerked and my brows shot together as the meaning of that word hit me.
"Are you counting down - ?"
"Two."
I planted my hands on my hips.
"You are!" I cried angrily. "You're counting - "
"Fuck it," he muttered, took two long strides, and I was in his arms.
I don't give a damn, laddie. Until the actual moment, when they cut me down, I shall still be looking to win. And the gods of war are fickle at best.— David Gemmell
I heard my blood, singing in its prison,— Octavio Paz
and the sea sang with a murmur of light,
one by one the walls gave way,
all of the doors were broken down,
and the sun came bursting through my forehead,
it tore apart my closed lids,
cut loose my being from its wrappers,
and pulled me out of myself to wake me
from this animal sleep and its centuries of stone
I pulled on the restraints, frustrated, hurting, and completely devastated. I could feel tears sliding down my skin, into my ears, and back over my scalp. Which told me that they'd cut off my hair, too. For some reason, that little bit of vanity was what it took to undo me completely.— Elizabeth Schechter
So did you actually try to kill yourself? Or did that weird bitch just make up the whole thing?'— Leila Sales
Silently, I held up my left arm, wrist facing Emily. She crossed her arms and kept her lips squished together as she examined me for a moment, sizing up those three perfect scars. Finally, she said, 'You know that you're supposed to cut down to kill yourself, right? You did it wrong.'
I looked at Emily and thought about what would have happened if I'd cut the other way. Or what wouldn't have happened. Char wouldn't have broken up with me. Alex wouldn't be mad at me. Pippa wouldn't hate me.
And I never would have met Vicky. I would never have had my first kiss. I would never have worn rhinestone pumps. I would never have heard Big Audio Dynamite. I would never have discovered Start. I would never have known I could be a DJ.
Emily Wallace didn't know what she was talking about. She never had.
You did it wrong, she said.
'No,' I said to her. 'I didn't.
Well, it doesn't sound particularly noble and knightly to say you've rescued the Chief Cook and Librarian, does it? And it has cut down on the number of interruptions. I used to get two or three knights a day, and now there's only about one a week. And the ones who do come are at least smart enough to figure out that I'm still a princess even if the dragons call me Chief Cook— Patricia C. Wrede
In any case I would cut myself a path to the throne even if some bastard-born herder had fathered me on a gutter-whore - genealogy can work for me or I can cut down the family tree and make a battering ram. Either way is good.— Mark Lawrence
I added pieces the same way I'd constructed my body, from the inside out: boy-cut panties first (lacy), bra (sheer), stockings (thigh high), knee-length leather skirt (black), lime green midriff-baring shirt (polyester). David leaned against the wall and watched this striptease-in-reverse with fabulously expressive eyebrows slowly climbing toward heaven, I finished it off with a pair of strappy lime green three-inch heels, something from the Manolo Blahnik spring collection that I'd seen two months ago in Vogue.— Rachel Caine
He looked me over, blinked behind the glasses, and asked, "You're done?"
I took offense, "Yeah. You with the fashion police?"
"I don't think I'd pass the entrance exam." The eyebrows didn't come down. "I never knew you were so ... "
"Fashionable?"
"Not really the word I was thinking."
I struck a pose and looked at him from under my supernaturally lustrous eyelashes. "Come on, you know it's sexy."
"And that's sort of my point.
Two hundred generations of European Jews. All gone, just as if they'd never been. It was the first time it was really real for me--just as if I were standing at the top of a ladder and somebody yanked the ladder away--and I was still standing there, only now it was *possible* to fall, because all my connections had been cut away, and there I was looking down into empty space, thinking about how I'd come this close to just not existing at all.— Rosemary Edghill
When I'm at our house in France I totally cut myself off from the rest of the world. I never have to listen to phones ringing and that's because - and Vanessa would confirm this - phones are banned from the house. We have a beautiful life and I feel that spending time in France has just calmed me down and made me stop worrying about things which aren't really important.— Johnny Depp
God what an outfield,' he says. 'What a left field.' He looks up at me, and I look down at him. 'This must be heaven,' he says.— W.P. Kinsella
No. It's Iowa,' I reply automatically. But then I feel the night rubbing softly against my face like cherry blossoms; look at the sleeping girl-child in my arms, her small hand curled around one of my fingers; think of the fierce warmth of the woman waiting for me in the house; inhale the fresh-cut grass small that seems locked in the air like permanent incense; and listen to the drone of the crowd, as below me Shoelss Joe Jackson tenses, watching the angle of the distant bat for a clue as to where the ball will be hit.
I think you're right, Joe,' I say, but softly enough not to disturb his concentration.
I spent my childhood being cut down to fit a space where I never belonged in the first place. I spent the rest of my life searching for someone to tell me what to do with the scars.— Marta Maranda
Tonight all the hells of young grief have opened again; the mad words, the bitter resentment, the fluttering in the stomach, the nightmare unreality, the wallowed-in tears. For in grief nothing 'stays put.' One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often - will it be for always? - how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, 'I never realized my loss till this moment'? The same leg is cut off time after time. The first plunge of the knife into the flesh is felt again and again. They— C.S. Lewis
I thought of kissing Astrid under the fire escape. I thought of Norm's rusty microbus and of his father, Cicero, sitting on the busted-down sofa in his old trailer, rolling dope in Zig-Zag papers and telling me if I wanted to get my license first crack out of the basket, I'd better cut my fucking hair. I thought of playing teen dances at the Auburn RolloDrome, and how we never stopped when the inevitable fights broke out between the kids from Edward Little and Lisbon High, or those from Lewiston High and St. Dom's; we just turned it up louder. I thought of how life had been before I realized I was a frog in a pot. I shouted: "One, two, you-know-what-to-do!" We kicked it in. Key of E. All that shit starts in E.— Stephen King
You live the lifestyle you were trained and conditioned to live. I create me own lifestyle, my own world. You live in the world that was created for you. You accept the things you were taught to accept because you don't know any different. I don't accept the things I was taught. I don't accept the trees being cut down. I don't accept the water being polluted. You people accept that.— Charles Manson
I say we cut a path right down the fucking middle and kill anything that moves," I growled.— Amelia Hutchins
Ristan raised a brow and whistled. "Damn , Flower. That almost made me hard. Shock me with that blood thirsty little inner vixen.
Aren't you still worried Gran will cut me off, and you'll be saddled with a spoiled wife and not enough money to please her?"— Sabrina Jeffries
"To hell with your grandmother, too. For that matter, to hell with the money." He tossed the chair aside as if it were so much kindling; it clattered across the floor. "It's you I want."
"Jackson!" she cried as he approached her. "Someone might hear you!"
"Good." Catching her about the waist, he backed her toward the bed. "Then you'll be well and truly compromised, and there will be no more question of our marrying."
While she was still thrilling to the masterful way he'd decided to take charge, he tumbled her onto the bed, following her down to cover her body with his.
As she gaped at him, shocked to see her cautious love behave so delightfully incautious, he murmured, "Or better yet, they can find us here together in the morning and march us right to the church."
Then he took her mouth with his.
TIMON— William Shakespeare
Commend me to them,
And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.
First Senator
I like this well; he will return again.
TIMON
I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
It had been my father's way to remove obstructions, to repair washouts in old trails, to leave each trail better than he had found it. "Tread lightly on the paths," he had told me. "Others will come when you have gone."— Louis L'Amour
That was how I would remember my father. There was never a place he walked that was not the better for his having passed. For every tree he cut down he planted two.
I didn't trust it for a moment— Lala
but I drank it anyway,
the wine of my own poetry.
It gave me the daring to take hold
of the darkness and tear it down
and cut it into little pieces.
As your older brother, it's my sacred duty to save you from yourself."— Neal Shusterman
She brings her fists down on the table, making all the dinner plates jump. "The ONLY reason you're fifteen minutes older than me is because you cut in front of the line, as usual!
Let me write it down, quite unambiguously: paper could cut me open as a paper knife slits paper. I'd like to meet the person who could make a new woman of me out of the things I say.— Elfriede Jelinek
You take risks; you get hurt. And you put your head down and plow forward anyway and if you die, you die. That's the game. But don't tell me you're not a hero. You walk away, you're choosing to walk away. Whatever bad things happen as a result, you're choosing to let them happen. You can lie to yourself, say that you never had a choice, that you weren't cut out for this. But deep down you'll know. You'll know that humans aren't cut out for anything. We cut ourselves out. Slowly, like a rusty knife. Because otherwise, here's what's going to happen: you're going to die and you're going to stand at the gates of judgement and you're going to ask God what was the meaning of it all, and God will say, 'I created the universe, you little shit. It was up to you to give it meaning.— David Wong
Part of me relates to Perez Hilton because he's an outcast. I don't have a lot of friends who are actresses. They're catty, and they'll cut you down. I like that Perez is proud of who he is and doesn't care what anybody thinks.— Amanda Bynes
Before Butch knew what was doing, V grabbed his forearm, bent down, and licked the cut, sealing it up quick.— J.R. Ward
Butch yanked out of his roommate's hold. "Jesus, V! What if that blood's contaminated!"
"It's fine. Just f-" With a boneless lurch, Vishous gasped and collapsed against the wall, eyes rolling back in his head, body twitching.
"Oh, God ... !" Butch reached out in horror-
Only to have V cut the seizure off and calmly take a drink from his glass. "You're fine, cop. Tastes perfectly okay. Well fine for a human guy which really ain't my 'tail of choice, you feel me?"
Butch hauled back and nailed his roommate in the arm with his fist. And as the brother cursed, Butch popped him another one.
V glared and rubbed himself. "Christ, cop."
"Suck it up, you deserve it.
When you look at me that way, I feel so beautiful."— Tessa Dare
"You are beautiful." He signed deep in his chest. His hands slid up and down her arms, caressing her roughly. "So damned beautiful."
"So are you." She put a hand to his bare chest, tracing the defined ridges of his musculature. "Like a diamond. Hard and gleaming, and cut with all these exquisite facets. Inside ... pure, brilliant fire.
She cried before she slept. I reached out to touch the ends of her hair. She didn't notice. I didn't know what to do. Listening to her made me ache. I felt tears stream down my face too. And when I accidentally brushed Eli with my arm his face was wet where his tears ran down. We have all been carved out by our sorrow. Cut deep like canyon walls.— Ally Condie
Let not thy sword skip one:— William Shakespeare
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
Ah, these diplomats! What chatterboxes! There's only one way to shut them up - cut them down with machine guns. Bulganin, go and get me one!— Joseph Stalin
Her normally coiffed hair looked like she'd been inside a wind tunnel, but the best part?— Jennifer L. Armentrout
Fingernail marks were etched down the side of Sadi's face and reddish-blue blood had been drawn. A disturbing level of pride rippled through me.
Kitten got claws and then some.
"She doesn't play nice with others," Sadi huffed out. "So I'm in the process of adjusting her attitude."
"And I'm in the process of getting ready to cut out your heart, bitch."
In spite of everything that was so damn messed up, my lips twitched into a small smile.
When he[Thresh] shouts, I jump, never having heard him speak above a mutter. "What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?"— Suzanne Collins
Clove is scrambling backwards on all fours, like a frantic insect, too shocked to even call for Cato. "No! No, it wasn't me!"
"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" Another thought brings a fresh wave of rage to his features. "You cut her up like you were about to do to this girl here?"
"No! No, I-" Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh's hand and loses it. "Cato!" she screeches. "Cato!"
"Clove!" I hear Cato's answer, but he's too far away, I can tell that much, to do her any good. What was he doing? Trying to get Foxface or Peeta? Or had he been lying in wait for Thresh and just badly misjudged his location?
Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove's temple. It's not bleeding, but I can see the dent in her skull and I know that she's a goner.
![Cut Me Down Sayings By Suzanne Collins: When he[Thresh] shouts, I jump, never having heard him speak above a mutter. "What'd you](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/cut-me-down-sayings-by-suzanne-collins-287249.jpg "Cut Me Down Sayings By Suzanne Collins: When he[Thresh] shouts, I jump, never having heard him speak above a mutter. \"What'd you")
The chair legs behind me scrape against the floor, and Douchecanoe shrinks in his seat as over six hundred pounds of angry hockey players stare down at him. Fitzy is particularly menacing with his two full-sleeve tattoos and the cut over his eyebrow that he got during our last game.— Elle Kennedy
I get fixated when I'm bleeding— Russell Brand
I can see why they went in for blood-letting in the medieval times because it makes you feel a bit better. When I cut myself, the drama of it calms me down.
Jez cackled, throwing more liquor down her throat. "You so need to be cut off," I murmured softly, but her wildcat ears easily heard me. "And you need to join the party. By the end of the night, this place will be yours." She shoved a shooter across the table and raised one to match in cheers.— Trina M. Lee
The tag that I was too small and too slow just made me work that much harder. Besides, quickness is more important than flat-out speed. How often does a receiver run 40 yards straight down the field? Not very often. Lateral speed is what counts. How quickly can you get in and out of a cut? I can do that as well as anyone.— Steve Largent
Norman picked up a sketch, glanced at it, then put it back down on the table. "I saw Bea Williamson this morning," he said in a low voice. "Lurking about looking for cut glass."— Sarah Dessen
"Oh, of course," Mira said with a sigh. "Did she have it with her?"
Norman nodded solemnly. "Yep. I swear, I think it's almost gotten ... bigger."
Mira shook her head. "Not possible."
"I'm serious," Norman said. "It's way big."
I kept waiting for someone to expand on this, but since neither of them seemed about to, I asked, "What are you talking about?"
They looked at each other.
Then, Mira took a breath. "Bea Williamson's baby," she said quietly, as if someone could hear us, "has the biggest head you have ever seen."
Norman nodded, seconding this.
"A baby?" I said.
"A big-headed baby," Mira corrected me. "You should see the cranium on this kid. It's mind-boggling.
She paused and met his gaze straight on. "You should be seeing someone your own age, Troy Lee."— Linda Winfree
"Please don't start that bullshit again. It's not the issue and you know it."
"Really. What, pray tell, is the issue?"
"We've been out one time and already you're looking for me to cut and run." He shook his head. "You're doing it again. Speeding ahead, looking for where you think you're going, instead of seeing what's along the way. You gotta learn to slow down and enjoy the ride, Angel.
If you ask me to cut down a tree I'll spend the first four hours sharpening the axe.— Abraham Lincoln
Okay, if you have to go. I'm not sure what I'll do with all these women around."— Darynda Jones
Jealousy spiked in me so fast and so sharp, Reyes sucked in a breath, the air hissing through his teeth. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, let my emotion roll over him.
I bit down, embarrassed. "Are you enjoying that?"
"No," he said, panting. "A little. It's like being hit with a hundred razor blades at once, each leaving a tiny cut as it passes."
"Ouch. That sounds horridly unpleasant."
He lowered his head, regarded me from underneath his lashes. "Someday you'll figure out I'm not like other guys."
"Actually, I figured that out a while back."
"Nothing and no one interests me besides you.
Going out at night the medics gave you pills, Dexedrine breath like dead snakes kept too long in a jar. [ ... ] I knew one 4th division Lurp who took his pills by the fistful, downs from the left pocket of his tiger suit and ups from the right, one to cut the trail for him and the other to send him down it. He told me that they cooled things out just right for him, that could see that old jungle at night like he was looking at it through a starlight scope. "They sure give you the range," he said.— Michael Herr
You drop my name again, I'll hunt you down and cut off everything that protrudes from your body. You get me?— Kristen Ashley
I know. I'm just trying to keep things simple."— Jamie McGuire
Trenton took a step toward me. "This isn't simple. Not even close."
"It is simple. Black and white. Cut and dry."
Trenton grabbed me by the shoulders and planted a kiss on my mouth. Sheer shock made my lips
hard and unforgiving, but then they melted against his, along with the rest of my body. I relaxed, but
my breathing picked up, and my heart beat so loud I was sure Trenton could hear it. His tongue
slipped between my lips, and his hands slid down my arms to my hips, his fingers digging into my
skin. He pulled my hips against his as he kissed me, and then sucked my bottom lip when he pulled
away.
"Now it's complicated." He grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him.
But what kind of barbed love could I offer her? I'm— Sara Wolf
broken, shattered like a mirror of lies. She would try to
pick up my pieces and only cut her delicate fingers on
them. Any love I could give her would hurt her more,
when all I want to do is heal her. I want to build her
back up, not tear her down with me. She is too
important.
Darius glided toward Tempest in his silent, intimidating way. "You are going to bed now, honey. I will not listen to any arguments." Tempest was already lying down. "Does anyone else besides me ever get the urge to throw things at you?" She sounded drowsy, not combative. Darius hunkered down beside her so he was at eye level with her. "I do not think so. If they do, they do not have the audacity to tell me." "Well, I think throwing something at you is the only way to go," Tempest told him. Her eyes were already closing, and her voice was weary and sad despite her heavy words. Darius stroked the wealth of red-gold hair away from her face, his fingers soothing her scalp. "Do you? Maybe tomorrow might be a better time to try it." "I have a very good aim," she warned him. "It would be easier on you if you just quit giving me orders." "That would ruin my reputation," he objected. A smile curved the corners of her mouth, emphasizing the thin red cut at the side of her lip.— Christine Feehan
The surgical process turned out to be slightly out of the ordinary because I was not the best patient. I was extremely worried that the doctors would cut open my palm. Cutting the palm would mean substantially altering my grip, which I really didn't want to do. I explained to both my surgeons the nuances of cricket and urged them to cut open the back of the hand. I was so obsessed with this issue that I woke up during the surgery and asked them to show me where they had made the incision. Dr Joshi later told me that they were all surprised to see me awake despite the anaesthesia. The doctors showed me that my palm had been left untouched and told me to calm down and allow them to carry on. Satisfied, I instantly drifted back to sleep.— Sachin Tendulkar
Evening prayer— Arthur Rimbaud
I spend my life sitting, like an angel in a barber's chair,
Holding a beer mug with deep-cut designs,
My neck and gut both bent, while in the air
A weightless veil of pipe smoke hangs.
Like steaming dung within an old dovecote
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn:
From time to time my heart is like some oak
Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
And then, when I have swallowed down my Dreams
In thirty, forty mugs of beer, I turn
To satisfy a need I can't ignore,
And like the Lord of Hyssop and of Myrrh
I piss into the skies, a soaring stream
That consecrates a patch of flowering fern.
I am the entertainer, I've come to do my show You've heard my latest record, it's been on the radio It took me years to write it, they were the best years of my life It was a beautiful song but it ran too long If you're gonna have a hit you gotta make it fit So they cut it down to 3:05.— Billy Joel
I nurtured my dinomania with documentaries, delighted in the dino-themed B movies I brought home from the video store, and tore up my grandparents' backyard in my search of a perfect Triceratops nest. Never mind that the classic three-horned dinosaur never roamed central New Jersey, or that the few dinosaur fossils found in the state were mostly scraps of skeletons that had been washed out into the Cretaceous Atlantic. My fossil hunter's intuition told me there just had to be a dinosaur underneath the topsoil, and I kept excavating my pit. That is, until I got the hatchet out of my grandfather's toolshed and tried to cut down a sapling that was in my way. My parents bolted out of the house and put a stop to my excavation. Apparently, I hadn't filled out the proper permits before I started my dig.— Brian Switek
He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal."— Cassandra Clare
Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?"
He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
So I said, "Hey, Joe," and hoped it was a start. He was startled. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He made a growling noise deep in his chest, a low rumble that made my skin itch. It was pleased, that sound, like even just me saying his name was enough to make him happy. For all I knew, it was. It cut off as quickly as it started. He looked faintly embarrassed. I scuffed my foot in the dirt, waiting. He said, "Hey, Ox." He cleared his throat and looked down. "Hi." It was weird, that disconnect between the boy I'd known and the man before me. His voice was deeper and he was bigger than he'd ever been. He radiated power that had never been there before. It fit him well. I remembered that day that I'd really seen him for the first time, wearing those running shorts and little else. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn't want him sniffing me out. Not yet. Because attraction wasn't the problem right now. Especially not right now. I— T.J. Klune
Be glad you don't have a vagina," my friend, who does have a vagina, told me. "You have to have a special doctor. You have to have these awful exams where you basically get naked and then remove your dignity. And then the various parts down there can get cancer and have to get cut out. I'm telling you, having a vagina is like having a pet. Like a dog that's always chasing cars."— Augusten Burroughs
When she described it this way, it did seem a blessing that I was born without a vagina. I mean, I can't even handle having a heart.
I had my Olympic gold medal cut up into eleven pieces. Gave all eleven of my kids a piece. It'll come together again when they put me down.— Joe Frazier
Well yes so far, I was recently in Germany and they had me do six book signings a day and that was too much so I had them cut it down to about three. It becomes taxing at times but its a lot of fun and you meet a lot of nice people.— Larry Hagman
I wish I knew why she never told me any of this. Maybe she thought I wouldn't be able to handle it, that I was too sheltered or too innocent or something. If she had told me why she cut herself all the time, or that it was the pills that made her act so spaced out, or that she was even on pills, or even saw doctors, or any of it, I would have done my best to help her. I'm not saying I'm a superhero. I'm not saying I would have just swooped down and saved her. I'm just saying the only reason everything was a waste was that she made it a waste. That whole time, back when I was just a normal kid in high school, living out my normal life, I really thought everything mattered.— Nina LaCour
In ancient times people weren't simply male or female, but one of three types: male/male, male/female or female/female. In other words each person was made out of the components of two people. Everyone was happy with this arrangement and never really gave it much thought. But then God took a knife and cut everyone in half, right down the middle. So after that the world was divided just into male and female, the upshot being that people spend their time running around trying to locate their missing other half." "Why did God do that?" "Divide people into two? You've got me. God works in mysterious ways. There's that whole wrath-of-God thing, all that excessive idealism and so on. My guess is it was punishment for something. As in the Bible. Adam and Eve and the Fall and so on." "Original sin," I say.— Haruki Murakami
I was beginning to taste it. Something bitter, but warm.— Judith Fertig
A flavor that woke me up and let me see things clearly. A flavor that made me feel safe, so I could let those things go. A flavor that held my hand and walked me across to the other side of loss, and assured me that one day, I would be just fine. A flavor for a change of heart- part grief, part hope.
Suddenly, I knew what that flavor would be. I padded down to the kitchen and cut a slice of sour cream coffee cake with a spicy underground river coursing through its center, left over from an order that had not been picked up today.
One bite and I was sure. A familiar flavor that now seemed utterly fresh and custom-made for me.
Cinnamon.
The comfort of sweet cinnamon. It always worked. I felt better. Lighter. Not quite "everything is going to be all right," but getting there. One step at a time.
Every so often I was overwhelmed by a phantom pain that cut through me like a knife. I was certain that if I looked down I would find blood all over, like the knife I once held in my hands, but it was all in my mind.— Gail Tsukiyama
First draft: let it run. Turn all the knobs up to 11. Second draft: hell. Cut it down and cut it into shape. Third draft: comb its nose and blow its hair. I usually find that most of the book will have handed itself to me on that first draft.— Terry Pratchett
I looked down at my bloody shirt and jeans. "My face hurts all over," I said to Ranger. "Where's all the blood coming from?" "You're getting a bruise on your cheek. You have a small cut on your lower lip. You were bleeding from your nose, but that seems to have stopped. You have a puncture wound on your neck." "I'm a mess!" Ranger wrapped his arms around me and held me close. "You're beautiful. You evacuated the hotel and you delivered Vlatko.— Janet Evanovich
I am trying now to be entirely honest. I did actually comfort in the thought that the Devil had, on Strawless Common, defeated God. I much preferred that thought to the thought that God hadn't cared, hadn't helped Robin. I thought all the way back to the story of Eden. God, all-loving, all-wise, had surely wanted people to be happy and healthy and good; it was the Devil who spoiled it all ... and since so many people were miserable and sickly and bad the Devil must indeed by very powerful. The lifeless, voiceless thing, lately a singing boy, which they had cut down and put under a sack in the barn to await an unhallowed cross-road grave seemed to me to prove the power of the Devil.— Norah Lofts
Lady Alice Rowhedge
Ringer's scrunched into a corner of the room with good angles on the windows and the door coming in from the lobby. A hand on her neck, and that hand is gloved in blood. I have to look. She doesn't want me to look. I'm like, "Don't be stupid, I have to look." So she lets me look. It's superficial, between a cut and a gouge. I find a scarf lying on a display table and she wads it up and presses it against her neck. Nods at my torn sleeve. "Are you hit?" I shake my head and ease down on the floor beside her. We're both pulling hard for air. My head swims with adrenaline. "Not to be judgmental, but as a sniper, this guy sucks.— Rick Yancey
By now, ten trees must have been cut down just to document my mental health, which Nikki will hate hearing, as she is an avid environmentalist who gave me at least one tree in the rain forest every Christmas— Matthew Quick
I sat on a bench and my mother stood in front of me, looking down the track. Her hair was cut short, and because it had all turned gray when she was twenty-three, she always had it dyed a deep chestnut brown. It was that color all over except for a super thin stripe at the top of her head, where the gray showed through. Sometimes I wanted to touch that place on my mother's head, that thin crack where her real self had forced its way through.— Carol Rifka Brunt
Bianca, whore is just a cheap word people use to cut each other down," he said. His voice softer. "It makes them feel better about their own mistakes. Using words like that is easier than really looking into the situation. I promise you, you're not a whore."— Kody Keplinger
I looked at him, into his warm gray eyes, and suddently understood what he was trying to tell me. The message hidden beneath the words.
You're not alone.
But this isn't their God, she decided. It's my God. This is a God I have found through sacrificing my own life, through my flesh being cut, my skin ripped off, my blood sucked away, my nails torn, all my time and hopes and memories being stolen from me. This is not a God with a form. No white clothes, no long beard. This god has no doctrine, no scripture, no precepts. No reward, no punishment. This God doesn't give, and doesn't take away. There is no heaven up in the sky, no hell down below. When it's hot, and when it's cold, God is simply there.— Haruki Murakami
When I sat down to write I just felt like a geek writing about myself. And then it dawned on me, just because of the way I am, I can't stop talking, and part of the problem is that anything that gets said reminds me of something that happened to me one time, and invariably I cut people off and talk about myself.— Paula Poundstone
Mia looks down at my outstretched hands, opens her mouth to say something, and then she just sighs. Her face hardens into a mask as she reaches out her own hand to take mine.— Gayle Forman
The tremor in my hand has become so normal, so nonstop, that it's generally imperceptible to me. But as soon as my fingers close around Mia's, the thing I notice is that it stops and suddenly it goes quiet, like when the squall of feedback is suddenly cut when someone switches off an amp. And I could linger here forever.
Except this is a handshake, nothing more.
This thing's giving me an eye twitch," Ranger said. "Can you get the sound off?" I started pressing buttons and the screen went blank. "How's that?" I asked. "Babe, you shut the system down." "Yes, but the sound is off." "Reprogram it." "No need to get testy," I told him. "I don't know where I'm going." "I have a map. You just get on I-95 south and take the Springfield exit." "And then what?" "Then you'll have to pull over and reprogram the GPS." Ranger cut his eyes to me and there was the tiniest of smiles on his mouth.— Janet Evanovich
And that's why, when they want to get rid of anyone, they usually bring him down here (like they were doing with me) and say they'll leave him to the ghosts. But I always wondered if they didn't really drown 'em or cut their throats. I never quite believed in the ghosts. But those two cowards you've just shot believed all right. They were more scared of taking me to my death than I was of going.— C.S. Lewis
Instead of negotiating or begging for mercy, [my brother Damascene] challenged them to kill him. "Go ahead," he said. "What are you waiting for? Today is my day to go to God. I can feel Him all around us. He is watching, waiting to take me home. Go ahead— Immaculee Ilibagiza
finish your work and send me to paradise. I pity you for killing people like it's some kind of child's game. Murder is no game: If you offend God, you will pay for your fun. The blood of the innocent people you cut down will follow you to your reckoning. But I am praying for you ... I pray that you see the evil you're doing and ask God's forgiveness before it's too late.
![Cut Me Down Sayings By Immaculee Ilibagiza: Instead of negotiating or begging for mercy, [my brother Damascene] challenged them to kill him.](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/cut-me-down-sayings-by-immaculee-ilibagiza-1011959.jpg "Cut Me Down Sayings By Immaculee Ilibagiza: Instead of negotiating or begging for mercy, [my brother Damascene] challenged them to kill him.")
He leaned down and whispered to me: No matter how thin you get, no matter how short you cut your hair, it's still going to be you underneath. And he let go of my arm and walked back down the hall.— Marya Hornbacher
They want to control humankind through what they call selective breeding. The Nazis started it, but now the nwo are continuing it. See, the only way to control population is to first get it back down to manageable size. They're culling the herd, same way the game commission does when deer population gets out of control. That's why we've got diseases like cancer and aids. You telling me that we can put a little goddamn skateboard-looking robot on Mars and have it send pictures back, but we can't find a cure for cancer? There's a cure. You can bet on that, boys. There's a goddamn cure. They just won't release it because cancer helps cut down the population.— Brian Keene
When I stepped into the brown-tiled entryway of the Kentwood Public Library, the sunlight flowing down on me from the high windows, I felt a sense of importance. It gratified me to be in a place devoted to books and quiet; I was filled with a sense of hope. Reading to me was fundamental, as fundamental as food. And nothing could be more satisfying than reading a good book while eating a good meal of mi soup, french fries, and a thin cut of steak. I plowed through books as fast as possible in order to read them again.— Bich Minh Nguyen
The people in my life are friends I have by choice. I've made a conscious effort to have them in life. I only have the time and energy for so many people, which has cut down my friend group to a handful, but I'm so much happier with fewer good people, who really do know me.— Gillian Zinser
I want to follow my heart. And if the path under my feet doesn't take me in the same direction, I'll cut a new path. I'll shave my obstacles down into stepping stones.— Bella Forrest
I would that our farmers when they cut down a forest felt some of that awe which the old Romans did when they came to thin, or letin the light to, a consecrated grove (lucum conlucare), that is, would believe that it is sacred to some god. The Roman made an expiatory offering, and prayed, Whatever god or goddess thou art to whom this grove is sacred, be propitious to me, my family, and children, etc.— Henry David Thoreau
My gaze crept to where Sadi stood only a few feet from her, breathing heavily. Her white blouse was torn. Buttons popped and missing. Her normally coiffed hair looked like she'd been inside a wind tunnel, but the best part? Fingernail marks were etched down the side of Sadi's face and reddish-blue blood had been drawn. A disturbing level of pride rippled through me. Kitten got claws and then some. "She doesn't play nice with others," Sadi huffed out. "So I'm in the process of adjusting her attitude." "And I'm in the process of getting ready to cut out your heart, bitch." In spite of everything that was so damn messed up, my lips twitched into a small smile. "Get out.— Jennifer L. Armentrout
Yo, where you at, pretty boy?" Braeden hollered and came around the corner.— Cambria Hebert
I grinned and he laughed. "You ready for today?" he said and hooked me around the neck with his arm and tried to bend me down so he could mess up my hair.
"Hells yeah," I said, dodging his attempt.
The guys that were around us all starting trading insults, so we joined in until the sound of music cut through the laughter.
Some old song about how the guy singing was too sexy burst through the noise, and we all started to laugh. "B-man!" someone shouted a row over. "Phone's ringing.
Many foreigners have asked me how we made the Danish style. And I've answered that it ... was rather a continuous process of purification, and for me of simplification, to cut down to the simplest possible elements of four legs, a seat and combined top rail and arm rest.— Hans Wegner
Did you want to see me broken?— Maya Angelou
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
The Sun Going South— Ursula K. Le Guin
In late sunshine I wander troubled.
Restless I wander in autumn sunlight.
Too many changes, partings, and deaths.
Doors have closed that were always open.
Trees that held the sky up are cut down.
So much that I alone remember!
This creek runs dry among its stones.
Souls of the dead, come drink this water!
Come into this side valley with me,
a restless old woman, unseemly,
troubled, walking on dry grass, dry stones.
I was born to fight devils and factions. It is my business to remove obstacles, to cut down thorns, to fill up quagmires and to open and make straight paths. If I must have some failing let me rather speak the truth with too great sincerity than once to act the hypocrite and conceal the truth.— Martin Luther
As I grabbed my cocoa, chocolate ran down my hand.— Mindi Scott
"This makes me feel like a five-year-old," I said, licking it off.
"If I ordered a sandwich at this place, do you think they'd cut the crusts off?
The look he gave me was pitying. "In age only. I told you that you didn't know the half of what Madigan had done. Well, she's the half."— Jeaniene Frost
"She's more than half," Denise replied dourly. "That little girl snapped my neck as soon as she saw me, then cut my throat when I got up after that, and then impaled me with a pipe she ripped off the wall when I got up after that! Needless to say, after that last one, I stayed down until Homicidal Goldilocks left.
She went away, she cut me like a knife Hello beautiful thing, maybe you could save my life In just a glance, down here on magic street Loves a fool's dance And I ain't got much sense, but I still got my feet.— Bruce Springsteen
Outside, Ky and I walk down the path a little way. I lean back against the rock and stands before me, reaching up to put his hand along my neck, under my hair and the collar of my coat. His hand feels rough, cut from carving and climbing, but his touch is gentle and warm. The night wind sings through the canyon and Ky's body shields me from the cold.— Ally Condie
Gritting my teeth as if it requires actual physical strength, I push the memory of him dying in my arms down, deep down. It almost seems to fight me, to want to surge into the forefront of my mind, and I sigh. Long ago I came to the realization that painful memories are persistent. The agony of them stays with you much longer, sharper, and clearer than sweet memories, that soften and assume a hazy, rosy glow in your mind, almost as if they have been airbrushed. Remembrance of pain is different; there is no muting of colors, no blurring of edges. No, its colors remain stark and bold, a palette of vibrant primary reds, blues, and yellows; its edges stay defined and razor sharp. Years later it can still cut you as deeply, make you bleed as profusely, as the day it was formed.— Lily Velden
FROM AN UNTITLED WORK IN PROGRRESS
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.— Sylvia Plath
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Diet cola is my absolute favorite drink in the world; I used to drink four cans a day. But to help me cut down, I've turned it into a treat. Now, instead of having dessert, I'll have a can of diet soda. Putting a limit on how often I can drink it has helped me appreciate it more.— Kaley Cuoco
Cut this tree I'm living in down. Hollow its trunk out.— Ali Smith
Make me all over again, with what you scooped out of its insides.
Slide the new me back inside the old trunk.
Burn me. Burn the tree. Spread the ashes, for luck, where you want next year's crops to grow.
Birth me and the tree
Next summer's sun
Midwinter guarantee
