Fleet Foxes Quotes

Happiness, like life itself, was as fragile as a bird’s heartbeat, as fleeting as the bluebells in the wood, but while it lasted, Fox Corner was an Arcadian dream.

Who your brain decides your heart will somersault for seems to be completely fucking random. I

There is no way I can stop what I’m feeling, no going back from this, no shield in the entirety of the universe that can protect a heart from love. “It’s

The stuff you feel deeply about yourself isn’t stuff other people can change your mind about just by disagreeing with you.

I want to say it so badly, tell him that it’s been him from the beginning, but words are making me dizzy. “You have my heart,” I whisper instead. Instantly

I know space is supposed to make me feel small and insignificant, but somehow it doesn’t. What it makes me feel is special: I’m here, despite a million odds, in this moment, in this single point in time, with a boy I’m so completely in love with.

Fragile things, every single one of them. Lives are so terrifyingly easy to break. And yet, I love every single second. If I didn’t love it, it wouldn’t hurt so much. If it wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t be so terrified of losing it. I

We hold eye contact until I start to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. It’s so terrifyingly tender that my chest hurts. For the first time in my life, it’s as if someone sees me fully, seeing me and accepting everything that I am, inside and out. And I see him too — this scared, sweet boy, so vulnerable and emotionally wide open, who finds the world mostly terrifying but occasionally wonderful.

I'm glad he can't see the way my stomach flips over as I speak or hear the way my heart is beating out a crazy rhythm in my chest. Can't lifetimes be measured in heartbeats? The faster a heart goes, the less time you have? Maybe Micky is bad for my health.

Hold me tighter.” I do. If you asked me to, I would for always, I think. “Dashiel

Micky is staring at the tablecloth so hard that I wonder if it’s going to come to life and wrap itself around him to protect him from having to answer any more questions. “I

It’s so easy to take life away, so much harder to live it, to make it big and bright and full of wonder. I

I’m falling in love with you. His words echo louder and louder. They have so much power right now, they’re atomic. They’re inside me. Micky

being close with someone, loving them, feels like something basic and necessary, like eating or breathing. For

Life has teeth, all we can do is try not to get bitten. “It’s

Arizona is beautiful. The sky is beautiful. But it isn’t what sets me alight. Micky is my fire, my sun, my sky, my world. With

They say that nothing lasts forever and so I drag myself out of bed and smile for my children counting the hours until I can dematerialize into the murky realm of my unconscious searching for even the most fleeting moment of relief from this devasting wildfire inside my chest

He gives me that look, the one where his heart is laid out in his eyes and with one false move, I could break it. Vulnerable, that’s what the word is. He makes himself vulnerable to me. I

Kevin's expression was indecipherable. Whatever it was, it didn't look particularly happy. "This is going to be a very long season." "I told you I wasn't ready." "You also said you wouldn't play with me, but here you are. [...] If you won't play with me, you'll play for me," Kevin said. "You're never going to get there on your own, so give your game to me." "Where is there?" Neil asked. [...] Kevin reached up and covered Neil's eyes with his free hand. "Forget the stadium," Kevin said. "Forget the Foxes and your useless high school team and your family. See it the only way it really matters, where Exy is the only road to take. What do you see?" [...] That thought was sombering, as it put him right back to square one and the fact that Neil Josten was a fleeting existence. It was cruel to even dream he could stay like this, but Kevin had escaped, hadn't he? Somehow he'd left that bloody room behind at Edgar Allan and become this, and Neil wanted the same so bad he could taste it. "You," Neil said at last. [...] "Tell me I can have your game." [...] "Take it." "Neil understands," Kevin said, dropping his hand and sending Andrew a pointed look. "Congratulations are in order, I suppose! Since I have non to give, I will tell the others to respond appropriately." Andrew pushed himself to his feet and swallowed more whiskey on the way up. "[...] As it is, I might puke from all the fanaticism going around.

Outside it’s snowing again—fairy-tale London, all cold and bright and glittering. Except I’m not sure how we find our happy endings out there. No knight is going to ride up on a white horse to save us. No prince or princess is strong or brave enough to stand up against evil. The sharks keep swimming. No one wants to get in the water with them.

There's something almost weightless about our world, I think, something fleeting and insubstantial that's ill at ease with any pretence of certainty.

There are always going to be people out there who hate you, no matter what you do. What’s the point in wasting energy worrying about them? Near

Loki’s not evil.” “Just misunderstood?” Micky smiles, eyebrow raised. My

Perhaps that’s all we need—small things to lift us above life’s ocean depths. My

You’re beautiful, I write, while he’s still holding on to my hand. The words come out all spidery and crooked. You glitter like no one else. Like stars are inside you. I

You don’t have to be more. You’re everything.” I

We made this work. If the streets, a freezing winter, grief, nearly dying, and three thousand miles can’t break us, nothing will.

I think it must mean a lot that I can actually go to sleep with him, but we did a lot of not-sleeping last night too.     I’M

Shining like the brightest light in the dark does, though.

So much of songwriting hinges on finding new, defamiliarizing ways to express very familiar sentiments, in hopes of being able to reach ears that may be inoculated to true but tired clichés.

There is no way I can stop what I’m feeling, no going back from this, no shield in the entirety of the universe that can protect a heart from love. “It’s okay,” I murmur into his hair. “It’ll be okay.

If this is a game, I like playing it with you,” he whispers. I frown at my feet. I’m not sure this game can still be a game if we’ve admitted to it. I’m not sure if the rules have changed. The stakes definitely have. “I

I lied when I said I didn’t want to know what it felt like to be normal; I’d give anything. Maybe I’ll end up giving everything. But tonight I just want to know what it feels like to be someone else. And if it breaks my heart, maybe it was always meant to be broken.

Danny, listen to me. We’ve got stuff to figure out, but all I want is to be with you. That’s it. Everything else comes after. Everything else I can compromise on. Remember that. And if we have to live like foxes, then we’ll live like foxes. I only want to be with you.” I

I’ve not been through the shit you’ve been through, Danny. No one I love has died. But I do know that having smooth, unscarred skin does not make you beautiful. Shining like the brightest light in the dark does, though. And you light up everything. You light me up. I’m falling in love with you,” he says simply.

Is there a bird among them, dear boy?” Charity asked innocently, peering not at the things on the desk, but at his face, noting the muscle beginning to twitch at Ian’s tense jaw. “No.” “Then they must be in the schoolroom! Of course,” she said cheerfully, “that’s it. How like me, Hortense would say, to have made such a silly mistake.” Ian dragged his eyes from the proof that his grandfather had been keeping track of him almost from the day of his birth-certainly from the day when he was able to leave the cottage on his own two legs-to her face and said mockingly, “Hortense isn’t very perceptive. I would say you are as wily as a fox.” She gave him a little knowing smile and pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell her, will you? She does so enjoy thinking she is the clever one.” “How did he manage to have these drawn?” Ian asked, stopping her as she turned away. “A woman in the village near your home drew many of them. Later he hired an artist when he knew you were going to be somewhere at a specific time. I’ll just leave you here where it’s nice and quiet.” She was leaving him, Ian knew, to look through the items on the desk. For a long moment he hesitated, and then he slowly sat down in the chair, looking over the confidential reports on himself. They were all written by one Mr. Edgard Norwich, and as Ian began scanning the thick stack of pages, his anger at his grandfather for this outrageous invasion of his privacy slowly became amusement. For one thing, nearly every letter from the investigator began with phrases that made it clear the duke had chastised him for not reporting in enough detail. The top letter began, I apologize, Your Grace, for my unintentional laxness in failing to mention that indeed Mr. Thornton enjoys an occasional cheroot… The next one opened with, I did not realize, Your Grace, that you would wish to know how fast his horse ran in the race-in addition to knowing that he won. From the creases and holds in the hundreds of reports it was obvious to Ian that they’d been handled and read repeatedly, and it was equally obvious from some of the investigator’s casual comments that his grandfather had apparently expressed his personal pride to him: You will be pleased to know, Your Grace, that young Ian is a fine whip, just as you expected… I quite agree with you, as do many others, that Mr. Thornton is undoubtedly a genius… I assure you, Your Grace, that your concern over that duel is unfounded. It was a flesh wound in the arm, nothing more. Ian flipped through them at random, unaware that the barricade he’d erected against his grandfather was beginning to crack very slightly. “Your Grace,” the investigator had written in a rare fit of exasperation when Ian was eleven, “the suggestion that I should be able to find a physician who might secretly look at young Ian’s sore throat is beyond all bounds of reason. Even if I could find one who was willing to pretend to be a lost traveler, I really cannot see how he could contrive to have a peek at the boy’s throat without causing suspicion!” The minutes became an hour, and Ian’s disbelief increased as he scanned the entire history of his life, from his achievements to his peccadilloes. His gambling gains and losses appeared regularly; each ship he added to his fleet had been described, and sketches forwarded separately; his financial progress had been reported in minute and glowing detail.

Subect: Sigh. Okay. Since we're on the subject... Q. What is the Tsar of Russia's favorite fish? A. Tsardines, of course. Q. What does the son of a Ukranian newscaster and a U.S. congressman eat for Thanksgiving dinner on an island off the coast of Massachusetts? A.? -Ella Subect: TG A. Republicans. Nah.I'm sure we'll have all the traditional stuff: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. I'm hoping for apple pie. Our hosts have a cook who takes requests, but the island is kinda limited as far as shopping goes. The seven of us will probably spend the morning on a boat, then have a civilized chow-down. I predict Pictionary. I will win. You? -Alex Subect: Re. TG Alex, I will be having my turkey (there ill be one, but it will be somewhat lost among the pumpkin fettuccine, sausage-stuffed artichokes, garlic with green beans, and at least four lasagnas, not to mention the sweet potato cannoli and chocolate ricotta pie) with at least forty members of my close family, most of whom will spend the entire meal screaming at each other. Some will actually be fighting, probably over football. I am hoping to be seated with the adults. It's not a sure thing. What's Martha's Vineyard like? I hear it's gorgeous. I hear it's favored by presidential types, past and present. -Ella Subject: Can I Have TG with You? Please??? There's a 6a.m. flight off the island. I can be back in Philadelphia by noon. I've never had Thanksgiving with more than four or five other people. Only child of two only children. My grandmother usually hosts dinner at the Hunt Club. She doesn't like turkey. Last year we had Scottish salmon. I like salmon,but... The Vineyard is pretty great. The house we're staying in is in Chilmark, which, if you weren't so woefully ignorant of defunct television, is the birthplace of Fox Mulder. I can see the Menemsha fishing fleet out my window. Ever heard of Menemsha Blues? I should bring you a T-shirt. Everyone has Black Dogs; I prefer a good fish on the chest. (Q. What do you call a fish with no eyes? A. Fish.) We went out on a boat this afternoon and actually saw a humpback whale. See pics below. That fuzzy gray lump in the bumpy gray water is a fin. A photographer I am not. Apparently, they're usually gone by now, heading for the Caribbean. It's way too cold to swim, but amazing in the summer. I swear I got bumped by a sea turtle here last July 4, but no one believes me. Any chance of saving me a cannoli? -A

Why in the night sky are the lights hung? Why is the Earth moving 'round the sun? Floating in the vacuum with no purpose, not a one Why in the night sky are the lights hung? Oh Why is life made only for to end? Why do I do all this waiting then? Why this frightened part of me that's fated to pretend? Why is life made only for to end? Oh In the city only for a while Here to face the fortune and the bile I heard you on the radio, I couldn't help but smile In the city only for a while, oh Why in the night sky are the lights hung? Why is the Earth moving 'round the sun? Floating in the vacuum with no purpose, not a one Why in the night sky are the lights hung? Oh

Clusters of destroyers were tied up together at the far end of the East Loch beyond Ford Island, but it was the moorings along the island’s eastern side that commanded the most attention. These were home to the backbone of the Pacific battleship fleet. Numbered F-1, or Fox-1, to F-8 from southwest to northeast, the moorings, or quays, spread out almost three quarters of a mile. With good reason, everyone called it Battleship Row. By the evening of December 5, Battleship Row was home to the following ships: A small seaplane tender, the Avocet (AVP-4), tied up at F-1 for the weekend. F-2, which normally berthed an aircraft carrier was empty, Lexington and Enterprise both being at sea. Northeastward, California, the flagship of the Battle Force, moored at F-3. The oiler Neosho (AO-23), which was unloading a cargo of aviation gas and scheduled to depart for the states Sunday morning, occupied F-4. Then, things got a bit crowded. At F-5 and F-6, moored side by side in pairs, with fenders between them, sat Maryland on the inboard (Ford Island side) with Oklahoma outboard, and Tennessee inboard with West Virginia outboard. Astern of Tennessee lay the Arizona at F-7. All of these battleships were moored with their bows pointed down the channel to facilitate a rapid departure to sea.

I had the dream again. I was leaning in the back corner of the elevator in my building looking down at the bundle of keys in my hand. Below my hand were the blurred outlines of my black leather lace-up boots and my frayed black jeans. There was ink all over my legs from the screen-printers in my shop. There was ink on the skin beneath the rips at my knee and my thigh where the rough edge of my work table had worn through... The detail was vivid, but there was an ethereal sparkle to everything around the edges. The periphery washed out of focus as if I was looking through a narrow lens... Then the elevator stopped and the door opened. A woman climbed on board. Her face was concealed behind large sunglasses. The realism of the dream became unsteady and I lost grip. The images became fleeting close-ups, stills, and sensations. She was looking at me and my heart began to race... A part of me worried that I was drunk and about to make an embarrassing pass at some poor woman from my building. But when I reached for her, she reached for me too... She pulled my hand down and then the elevator began to plummet. I realized I didn’t have much time. I was surrounded by her scent and warmth... I was so overwhelmed with the sensuality of everything that I lost myself in her... Then I watched her eyes fade into the blackness of my apartment as I woke up.

While some biographers claim Rommel had retrieved the goggles from an abandoned British vehicle, stating that “even a general was allowed a little booty,” a 2015 Daily Mail article claims that a British POW actually gave his goggles to the general.  After his capture, Major General Michael Gambier-Parry was invited to supper with Rommel, where he informed the field marshal that his hat had been stolen by a German soldier.  Rommel investigated, and returned Gambier-Parry’s hat, but asked if he could keep the British-issue goggles that the general had left in his staff car.[83]  They became part of his signature appearance, and he was rarely photographed without them after 1941.   Rommel would also receive his moniker, the Desert Fox, in the weeks following his victories there.  In German “Wustenfuchs,” it described a “small fox with a habit of burrowing quickly into the sand to escape predators, affording human occupants of the desert only an occasional fleeting glance.

I do know that having smooth, unscarred skin does not make you beautiful. Shining like the brightest light in the dark does, though.

I think I might like to meet some ghosts. The dead aren't scary. It's the living who do the terrifying things.

Vinny is sitting in a bus shelter a little farther up the side of the park. She’s wearing jeans and a blue padded coat. Not the sort of clothes she’d be wearing if she were working. She still glitters, though. Some people just do. “Loki!

The speakers are not merely delivering abstract notions of life; they move among particular forests at particular times of the day and year.

Grief is shocking, but sometimes it makes you feel so numb and cold, you could be made of ice. When the ice breaks, it never gives you any warning.

Fuck. I wish I wasn’t having this reaction. Who your brain decides your heart will somersault for seems to be completely fucking random.

I think I might like to meet some ghosts. The dead aren’t scary. It’s the living who do the terrifying things.

For a moment it feels as if he can see right through me, as if I’m made of glass and every lie I tell is written out for him to read. It makes me sad, as sad as I’ve ever been, because I wish things were different. I wish it with everything in me—the thought sharp as a spear in my heart. I don’t normally let myself think like this, but right now I’d give anything, absolutely anything, to look ordinary. For him to look at me and see an ordinary boy looking back at him. I wouldn’t ask to be beautiful.

And even though I didn’t know him at all, I miss him. Maybe I always will. Maybe I will miss everyone I’ve ever felt close to, everyone I’ve ever known—even if I know them still, I’ll miss them, miss each moment as it passes. Because moments are all we have and they never come back. I didn’t used to think I was a feeling-sad sort of person, but sometimes this sort of sadness is so big inside me.

The sort of sadness that comes from knowing it’s never going to get any easier to see someone who makes your heart beat faster being affectionate with someone who’s not you.

I want to promise him everything, the sun, the stars. I want to give him back all the things that were ever taken away, to erase every hurt. Because something tells me he’s been hurt plenty. I’ve never felt anything as strong as this. I need to find a way to stop feeling like this.

And if I could only make one person happy, it’d be you.

How did you find me?” he whispers in this choked-up voice. I don’t think he’s talking about last night. He reaches out and squeezes my fingers, and this crazy spark of warmth swirls around my chest like an errant firework racing through the sky.

Your heartbeat is going crazy,” he whispers, after a while. I let out a strangled laugh. What an understatement. My heart has gone fucking supernova.

I’ve not been through the shit you’ve been through, Danny. No one I love has died. But I do know that having smooth, unscarred skin does not make you beautiful. Shining like the brightest light in the dark does, though. And you light up everything. You light me up. I’m falling in love with you,

Fragile things, every single one of them. Lives are so terrifyingly easy to break. And yet, I love every single second. If I didn’t love it, it wouldn’t hurt so much. If it wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t be so terrified of losing it.

I might stop someone getting hurt, if only by letting them know they have a choice. Life has teeth, all we can do is try not to get bitten. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper. “Kiss me and make it a promise,” he whispers back before pressing his lips to mine.

I was a child in the ivy then I never knew you, you knew me Not like you knew me Off on the other ocean, now All is behind you, all is sea

Who stole the life from you? Who turned you so against you?

Night ended the fight, but the song remained And so I headed to the wall Turned tail to call to the new domain As if in the sight of sea, you're suddenly free But it's all the same Oh, but I can hear you, loud in the center Aren't we made to be crowded together, like leaves??

Life unfolds in pools of gold I am only owed this shape if I make a line to hold To he held within one's self is deathlike, oh I know

He kept his eye open for other events that looked like the place to be and became drawn to them, looking for any opening to create news and enhance his value further. One such event was the Arnold Classic, held on March 2nd in Columbus, Ohio. The Arnold Classic was an annual bodybuilding event traditionally held at the Greater Columbus Convention Center. It served as something of a melting pot, luring agents, pornstars, hustlers, fans and wannabe stars to one venue with its gravitational pull. “If you like fake tits that’s the place to go”, jokes Kim Wood. “It’s a cesspool, there’s drug dealers…you just wallow in the sleaze.” Pillman’s visit was dual-purpose – in addition to hanging out at the expo, he was filming a commercial to plug his hotline to air on Hardcore TV. ECW’s television crew Stonecutter Productions, headed by Steve Karel, put it together with Brian. In what would become an unfortunate, ironic twist of fate, it was Karel, the same man who told Kim Wood about the WCW-ECW connection which led to Pillman becoming the talk of the industry, that took Brian to the Arnold Classic. Of course, a lot of the attendees were wrestling fans and with Brian in character, he was getting almost as much attention as Arnold himself. Brian and Karel took the sleaze a step further, going back and forth between strip shows and nude woman contests, when Pillman came across a model that caught his eye. In this case, however, it wasn’t a female. One of the sponsors of the Arnold Classic was Hummer. Schwarzenegger fell in love seeing a fleet of military Humvees roll past the set of Kindergarten Cop in 1990 and wanted one of his own. Arnie finally convinced AM General to produce them, and it was Schwarzenegger himself who purchased the first Hummer off the assembly line. Since then he was linked with them and with the bodybuilding expo bearing his name, it was only natural to have a number of floor models on display. Pillman loved the look of one of the Hummers in particular and since the ones being showcased had to be gotten rid of, Karel, with his connections, was able to get Brian a pretty good deal if he wanted to purchase it there and then. Despite all his hard work being with the goal of cashing in and making it out on the other end financially better off, Pillman’s focus lapsed amidst the intoxicating vibe of working everybody and living his character. Against his prior instincts, he bought the vehicle.

This is the way the power industry began in the days of Muncie, Indiana. Each town had one power plant, and there were no power lines between cities or towns. Moreover, technological developments are forcing a new look at this sort of design, nowadays referred to as microgrids. However, with current technologies and costs, microgrids are not yet cheaper than power from the large-scale grid. In other words, if you want an electric power supply that is extremely reliable—that is, very rarely has blackouts—at the lowest possible price, you need a fleet of large generators and a grid interconnecting them.

minor sprains to major

Happiness is a subjective and fleeting state of being limited to the human experience, and to some degree by other mammals.

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