#yard

I want to build a studio in my backyard. The interest rates are low now, so who knows. ↗

— Paul Taylor

#build #i #interest #knows #low

Apart from being interested in a good role, I think it's necessary to make up your mind as to whether it will make a movie that will entertain an audience all over the world and not just in your own backyard. ↗

— Rod Taylor

#audience #backyard #being #entertain #good

A 'For Sale' sign in your yard during the holidays is like a 'kick me' sign. You are telling buyers you are a distressed seller. ↗

— Ray Brown

#distressed #during #holidays #kick #like

We all want to thank Emmitt for allowing us to enjoy every yard. ↗

— Michael Irvin

#emmitt #enjoy #every #thank #us

Dear brothers and sisters, after the great Pope John Paul II, the cardinals have elected me - a simple, humble worker in the vineyard of the Lord. ↗

— Joseph Ratzinger

#brothers #cardinals #dear #elected #great

Be a yardstick of quality. Some people aren't used to an environment where excellence is expected. ↗

— Steve Jobs

#environment #excellence #expected #people #quality

Because you live to love and love to live/ And because of what your heardrum will give/ Now we might love to live and live to love. ↗

— Janet Goodfriend

#best #book-club #cape-cod #character #community

I shook with cold and fear, without being able to answer. After a lapse of some moments, I was again called. I made an effort to speak, and then felt the bandage which wrapped me from head to foot. It was my shroud. At last, I managed feebly to articulate, 'Who calls?' 'Tis I' said a voice. 'Who art thou?' 'I! I! I!' was the answer; and the voice grew weaker, as if it was lost in the distance; or as if it was but the icy rustle of the trees. A third time my name sounded on my ears; but now it seemed to run from tree to tree, as if it whistled in each dead branch; so that the entire cemetery repeated it with a dull sound. Then I heard a noise of wings, as if my name, pronounced in the silence, had suddenly awakened a troop of nightbirds. My hands, as if by some mysterious power, sought my face. In silence I undid the shroud which bound me, and tried to see. It seemed as if I had awakened from a long sleep. I was cold. I then recalled the dread fear which oppressed me, and the mournful images by which I was surrounded. The trees had no longer any leaves upon them, and seemed to stretch forth their bare branches like huge spectres! A single ray of moonlight which shone forth, showed me a long row of tombs, forming an horizon around me, and seeming like the steps which might lead to Heaven. All the vague voices of the night, which seemed to preside at my awakening, were full of terror. ("The Dead Man's Story") ↗

— James Hain Friswell

#graveyard #horror #terror #art

I don’t agree. The morning fog makes the graveyard beautiful, soft and sad as a voice humming a lullaby, but I don’t tell her what I think. She’d call me a weirdo. - Raven Smith ↗

— Rita Stradling

#beauty

One grave in every graveyard belongs to the ghouls. Wander any graveyard long enough and you will find it - water stained and bulging, with cracked or broken stone, scraggly grass or rank weeds about it, and a feeling, when you reach it, of abandonment. It may be colder than the other gravestones, too, and the name on the stone is all too often impossible to read. If there is a statue on the grave it will be headless or so scabbed with fungus and lichens as to look like fungus itself. If one grave in a graveyard looks like a target for petty vandals, that is the ghoul-gate. If the grave wants to make you be somewhere else, that is the ghoul-gate. ↗

— Neil Gaiman

#death #graveyard #death