Quotes
- Thread starter baci2004
- Start date
It's not the thick of the dick that does the trick
It's the throb of the knob that does the job!
It's the throb of the knob that does the job!
This thread, by its very length, defends itself against the risk of being read.
...modified version of a quote by Winston Churchill (1874-1965)
...modified version of a quote by Winston Churchill (1874-1965)
Catch 22
There was only one catch and that was Catch 22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind...Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he must be crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to.
Joseph Heller
There was only one catch and that was Catch 22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind...Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he must be crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to.
Joseph Heller
I think I've already lost you
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
You think I'm weak....I think you're wrong.
I think too much
I know its wrong, what I'm feeling.
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
You think I'm weak....I think you're wrong.
I think too much
I know its wrong, what I'm feeling.
"Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy, but they become legends."
- One Stab
- One Stab
SUFFOCATION
Death...
Destruction...
Jealousy...
Hate...
Corruption...
Society destroys, society kills, and it's society that puts the blame on me.
I am the one who hates
I am the one who kills
I am the one who blames
But I am the one who feels!
I'm not the destructor, it is all not my fault.
Weight upon my shoulders is crushingme, crushing my heart, crushing my life and my soul
All this pressure and suffocation.
So I can't live free.
None of us are free.
They see.
THey place so much blame on me they nail it to me with a spike, that I myself am almost convinced it's true
But I know I'm not the one who did this to you.
Please do not blame me.
I am not the bad guy.
All the blame that's put on me.
All the teary eyes I have to face.
All the violence around me
I can't stand to live like this anymore
I can't handle the suffocation
I can't handle the pain,
I can't handle the hate in your eyes, all the hate that surrounds me.
And all I wanted was to be loved...
to be held...
to be needed...
- John Luxford
Death...
Destruction...
Jealousy...
Hate...
Corruption...
Society destroys, society kills, and it's society that puts the blame on me.
I am the one who hates
I am the one who kills
I am the one who blames
But I am the one who feels!
I'm not the destructor, it is all not my fault.
Weight upon my shoulders is crushingme, crushing my heart, crushing my life and my soul
All this pressure and suffocation.
So I can't live free.
None of us are free.
They see.
THey place so much blame on me they nail it to me with a spike, that I myself am almost convinced it's true
But I know I'm not the one who did this to you.
Please do not blame me.
I am not the bad guy.
All the blame that's put on me.
All the teary eyes I have to face.
All the violence around me
I can't stand to live like this anymore
I can't handle the suffocation
I can't handle the pain,
I can't handle the hate in your eyes, all the hate that surrounds me.
And all I wanted was to be loved...
to be held...
to be needed...
- John Luxford
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still."
-Lord Byron
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still."
-Lord Byron
Vincent Malloy is seven years old,
He's always polite and does what he's told.
For a boy his age he's considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.
He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats.
There he could reflect on the horrors he's invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.
Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.
He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.
So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.
His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.
While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.
One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.
Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed.
His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom.
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.
While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent's mother suddenly burst into the room.
"If you want to you can go outside and play.
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."
Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn't speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.
So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
"I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again."
His mother said, "You're not possessed, and you're not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.
You're not Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy.
You're not tormented, you're just a young boy."
"You're seven years old, and you're my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.
He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.
She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.
To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
So he and his horrible zombie dog,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.
His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,
"And my soul from out that shadow floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted--Nevermore!"
- Tim BUrton
He's always polite and does what he's told.
For a boy his age he's considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.
He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats.
There he could reflect on the horrors he's invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.
Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.
He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.
So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.
His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.
While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.
One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.
Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed.
His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom.
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.
While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent's mother suddenly burst into the room.
"If you want to you can go outside and play.
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."
Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn't speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.
So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
"I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again."
His mother said, "You're not possessed, and you're not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.
You're not Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy.
You're not tormented, you're just a young boy."
"You're seven years old, and you're my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.
He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.
She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.
To escape the madness, he reached for the door,
So he and his horrible zombie dog,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.
His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,
"And my soul from out that shadow floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted--Nevermore!"
- Tim BUrton
