Inspirational quotes with creaks.
Steel screams when it's forged, it gasps when it's quenched. It creaks when it goes under load. I think even steel is scared, son.
I had no fear of the stream's perils, and I listened with the greatest contentment to the quiet slap of water on rocks, the running whisper of the current, and the taps and creaks and croaks that rose with the mist around me. Overhead swing the glittering stars, and the bright moon shone down and lit the curling ripples of the water. At no time in my life had I been in greater danger from the elements, and yet if I learned that heaven is such as that night was, I should deem it a joy worth the dying.
The sun rises bright and beautiful as if it feels no pain.It must not see, it must not hear, it can't possibly or it would not be able to overcome so defiantly.My bed creaks and whines when I leave it behind.I don't know why it tries so hard to hold onto me but yet I continue to try and overcome.I put on my shirt, my pants that fit me, find my socks and glue my heel back to my boot.My gloves are lost, my coat is torn but my scarf still keeps me warm and so I continue to try and overcome.Work has no pride, no place for me but I have no other place to be.My broken dreams continue to rise, my hopes continue to fade but still I try to overcome.A broken window and a gas tank on E, it's not Friday so I have to walk each day for at least another three.And so I walk while the world cries and pleas and tries to swallow me but still I continue and try to overcome.My lock on my door only turns halfway, but I don't have anything to steal anyway.My fridge is bare but my cabinet still holds three so I continue to try and overcome.The news haunts me, the weather threatens to rain down on me but another day has gone by.And I have overcome, I have overcome … I have overcome - the sun has nothing on me.
Get married, my friend, you don't know what it means to live alone, at my age. Nowadays feeling alone fills me with appalling anguish; being alone at home, by the fire, in the evening. It seems to me then that I'm alone on the earth, dreadfully alone, but surrounded by indeterminate dangers, by unknown, terrible things; and the wall, which divides me from my neighbour, whom I do not know, separates me from him by as great a distance as that which separates me from the stars I see through my window. A kind of fever comes over me, a fever of pain and fear, and the silence of the walls terrifies me. It is so profound, so sad, the silence of the room in which you live alone. It isn't just a silence of the body, but a silence of the soul, and, when a piece of furniture creaks, a shiver runs through your whole body, for in that dismal place you expect to hear no sound.
I don't speak, I operate a machine called language. It creaks and groans, but is mine own.
When I say I love the silence, I'm not being entirely truthful. What I actually love are the abundant, delicate sounds that amplify when I'm silent. These curious creaks, mutters, and hums compel my imagination.
They sat in a sphere of quiet, save the sound of theirbreathing and the carriage’s creaks and sways. Outside,the coachman yelled his encouragement to the steedsmoving them forward. The whole carriage cocoonedthem in a peculiar world with the heaven’s wool-thickmists pressing against the windows. Her hand didn’t stop rubbing his neck, but sheshifted her leg, bending her knee to rest her leg onhis thigh. Her patten slipped off, dropping to the floorwith a thud. Cyrus’s head moved off the squab. “Are youundressing for my benefit?” His smile’s wicked curve played on her. From herstays to her drawers, everything was too tight, toomuch against her skin. Cyrus reached for her handworking his neck muscles. He brought it to his lips andkissed her knuckles thrice with slow adoration. “We don’t have to stop,” she said, her voice breathyand quick. “I’m sure you have more aches and pains.” Mid-kiss, he smiled against the back of her hand, hiswarm breath brushing her skin. “There are so many ways a man could go withthat.” Humor lightened his voice. “But I’m sure youmean to provide tender care to my neck only.” She grinned at her unintended innuendo. This wasthe experience she craved—to flirt and tease, to kissand touch. Cyrus put his lips to her wrist, marking herwith hot kisses. A spangle of pleasure shot up her arm. “You would break down the meanest soul withyour soft heart.” He set her hand on the blanket’sscratchy folds, his thumb caressing her wrist. “High praise, indeed, sir.” Tinseled sparks danced across her skin, not lettingher recover from those gentle touches, his lips to herarm. He stroked a lone finger on her hand that restedbetween them. “And you don’t care one bit that I’m the son of aMidland swine farmer, do you?” Cyrus asked the unexpected question, but his voiceconveyed confidence in her answer. Was her chivalrousbrawler showing a hidden spot? She peered athim, wanting a better view of his shadowed features. How was she to decipher this latest turn? The carriage bumped and rocked, and the outsidecandle lantern swung another shaft of light inside. Hisquicksilver stare pinned her. “Miss Mayhew, have you ever wondered how afreehold farmer got to be in such a fine place?
Suddenly, a car zoomed out of a side street to their right, slamming into the side of the car with a loud metallic crash. Tires screeched. The passenger window shattered, showering glass over Pam as the other car’s momentum pushed them towards the opposite side of the road. Pam shrieked as the car tumbled over the edge of the road into the embankment. The car rolled until it came to a rest in the bottom of the ditch with creaks and groans. Neither Pam nor her mother stirred.
Do not fear the ghosts in this house; theyare the least of your worries.Personally I find the noises they make reassuring,The creaks and footsteps in the night,their little tricks of hiding things,or moving them, I findendearing, not upsettling. It makes the placefeel so much more like a home.Inhabited.
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