Crushed Quotes

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Your dreams come crushing down when you tow the wrong path by looking at what others are doing. The Milky Way Galaxy would have been crushed down by now if each planet had left its own orbit to revolve elsewhere!

Israelmore Ayivor
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Your dreams come crushing down when you tow the wrong path by looking at what others are doing. The Milky Way Galaxy would have been crushed down by now if each planet had left its own orbit to revolve elsewhere!

Israelmore Ayivor, Daily Drive 365
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Crushed again!

W.S. Gilbert, Patience
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In a story, you must always listen for the voice you cannot hear, the one that has been ignored or silenced. In that crushed voice, there is a strain of truth, as a crushed grape yields a drop of wine.

Patricia Storace
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We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

Anonymous, Holy Bible: King James Version
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It was as if some great ocean of destruction had rolled its unyielding tide through the city and then, upon its terrible recession, left behind only a shoreline of concrete sand and crushed humanity.

Jay Posey, Three
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... for when a man's spirit has been thoroughly crushed, he may be peevish at small offenses, but never resentful of great ones.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables
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Every single time you looked at me, through the corner of your eye and smiled. My heart pushed the ribs with all the force towards my lungs, until it got crushed and I could not breathe anymore.

Akshay Vasu
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Some attribute had departed from her, the permanence of which had been essential to keep her a woman. Such is frequently the fate, and such the stern development, of the feminine character and person, when the woman has encountered, and lived through, an experience of peculiar severity. If she be all tenderness, she will die. If she survive, the tenderness will either be crushed out of her, or—and the outward semblance is the same—crushed so deeply into her heart that it can never show itself more.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter
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What do you care?" I barked, and his grip tightened enough on my wrists that I knew my bones would snap with a little more pressure."What do I care?" he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings - those membranous, glorious wings - flared from his back, crafted from the shadows behind him. "What do I care?"But before he could go on, his head snapped to the door, then back to my face. The wings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and then his lips were crushing into mine. His tongue pried my mouth open, forcing himself into me, into the space where I could still taste Tamlin. I pushed and trashed, but he held firm, his tongue sweeping over the roof of my mouth, against my teeth, claiming me - The door was flung wide, and Amarantha's curved figure filled its space. Tamlin - Tamlin was beside her, his eyes slightly wide, shoulders tight as Rhys's lips still crushed mine.Amarantha laughed, and a mask of stone slammed down on Tamlin's face. void of feeling, void of anything vaguely like the Tamlin I'd been tangled up with moments before.

Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses
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BurialCathy Linh CheThere is the rain, the odor of fresh earth, and you, grandmother, in a box. I bury the distance, 22 years of not meeting you and your ruined hands.I bury your hair, parted to the side and pinned back, your áo dài of crushed velvet, the implements you used to farm,the stroke which claimed your right side, the land you gave up when you remarried, your grief over my grandfather's passing,the war that evaporated your father's leg, the war that crushed your bowls, your childhood home razedby the rutted wheels of an American tank— I bury it all.You learned that nothing stays in this life, not your daughter, not your uncle, not even the dignity of leaving this worldwith your pants on. The bed sores on your hips were clean and sunken in. What did I know, child who heard you speak only once,and when we met for the first time, tears watered the side of your face. I held your hand and said,bà ngoai, bà ngoaiTen years later, I returned. It rained on your gravesite. In the picture above your tomb,you looked just like my mother. We lit the joss sticks and planted them. We kept the encroaching grass at bay.

Cathy Linh Che, Split
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