A Quote by Vladimir Nabokov
I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust
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And the rest is rust and stardust.
Nancy
According to astronomers, every atom in my body was forged in a star. I am made, they insist, of stardust. I am stardust braided into strands and streamers of information, proteins and DNA, double helixes of stardust. In every cell of my body there is a thread of stardust as long as my arm.
All life is sacred. Since life is an affirmation of the Creator, I shall live on, even when I am gone. In trailing clouds of glory shall I return to my Creator only to find that I had never really left. I shall walk among the lilies of the field and leave my trail in stardust in the sky.
When urbanity decays, civilization suffers and decays with it.
Rust rust rust in the engines of love and time.
If you rest, you rust.
I was a weed. Such a skinny little weed. I just couldn't put on weight; I couldn't put on muscle. I was the oddest shape. And I thought that was it: that's how I'd look for the rest of my life. And I'd beat myself up about it so much. But you change an awful lot. You're 16. Your body's not even halfway to what it'll end up being.
When it comes to staying tuned: if you rest, you rust.
The time will come when every change shall cease,
This quick revolving wheel shall rest in peace:
No summer then shall glow, not winter freeze;
Nothing shall be to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal now shall ever last.
You always take rest over rust in the playoffs.
In what twisted universe would a girl who's just been dumped still want to be friends with the boy who dumped her?
I heard on public radio recently, there's a thing called Weed Dating. Singles get together in a garden and weed and then they take turns, they keep matching up with other people. Two people will weed down one row and switch over with two other people. It's in Vermont. I don't think I'd be very good at Weed Dating.
Know, therefore, that from the greater silence I shall return... Forget not that I shall come back to you... A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse.
I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea.
You may bury my body in Sussex grass,
You may bury my tongue at Champmedy.
I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee
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