Charles Beaumont Quotes
A cold wind raced across the surrounding fields of wild grass, turning the land into a heaving dark-green ocean. It sighed up through the branches of cherry trees and rattled the thick leaves. Sometimes a cherry would break loose, tumble in the gale, fall and split, filling the night with its fragrance. The air was iron and loam and growth.
He walked and tried to pull these things into his lungs, the silence and coolness of them.
But someone was screaming, deep inside him. Someone was talking.
Charles Beaumont
Quotes to Explore
Television is generally on the conservative side, so if you're seeing it represented on TV, that probably means it's really out there in the real world.
Victor Webster
I like every girl. Every kind of girl that there is, I like.
Action Bronson
But the Queen has no such veto; She must sign her own death-warrant if the two Houses unanimously send it up to her.
Walter Bagehot
After the first glass you see things as you wish they were. After the second glass you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.
Oscar Wilde
'I keep hoping you’ll tell me. You’re the god, after all. If I prayed to you for guidance, and you decided to answer, what would you tell me?''I wouldn’t answer.''Because you don’t care? Or because you wouldn’t know what to say?'More silence.
N. K. Jemisin
Let us labor to add all needful guarantees for the more perfect security of free thought, free speech, and free press, pure morals, unfettered religious sentiments, and of equal rights and privileges to all men, irrespective of nationality, color, or religion.
Ulysses S. Grant
I like to think of birthdays as celebrating life." "Only losers acknowledge they survived a year and hope they cheat death again.
P. C. Cast
I don't like to be described as a Southern writer. The danger is, if you're described as a Southern writer, you might be thought of as someone who writes about a picturesque local scene like Uncle Tom's Cabin, Gone With the Wind, something like that.
Walker Percy
Beware of spitting against the wind!
Friedrich Nietzsche
A cold wind raced across the surrounding fields of wild grass, turning the land into a heaving dark-green ocean. It sighed up through the branches of cherry trees and rattled the thick leaves. Sometimes a cherry would break loose, tumble in the gale, fall and split, filling the night with its fragrance. The air was iron and loam and growth.
He walked and tried to pull these things into his lungs, the silence and coolness of them.
But someone was screaming, deep inside him. Someone was talking.
Charles Beaumont
