Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Dashed. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Dashed Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including William Shakespeare,Sylvia Plath,Bob Seger,Steven Erikson,Saib Tabrizi for you to enjoy and share.
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be changed:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
The child's cry
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
Like a rock, standing arrow straight. Like a rock, charging from the gate.
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By your raised hand?
The march of good fortune has backward slips: to retreat one or two paces gives wings to the jumper.
She chased after her dream with much desire, but when she got to close to her expectations, well the dream burned up like paper in fire.
Bent
like the branches of a tree
broken
like the pieces of my heart
cracked
like the seventeenth moon
shattered
like the glass in the window
the day we met
Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream
I used to enjoy using dots where they would be least expected, not at the end of a sentence but in the middle, creating the effect ... of a skipped beat. It seemed to me the mind reacted - first! ... in dots, dashes, and exclamation points, then rationalized, drew up a brief, with periods.
There are the boys for whom the ink of a million glittery gel pens was spilled.
Make a wish," said Indigo.
Rose made a wish and then asked, "Why?"
"That's what I always do. Wish on the moving ones."
"Does it matter how fast they move?"
"I don't think so."
"Can you wish on airplanes, too?"
"Oh, yes.
She gave me a dirty look. Then she broke into the bubbly champagne laugh. She turned and ran, limping but steady. She laughed over he shoulder, letting out the line as I held the kite above my head.
"Run with me, Rose," she cried.
Have you returned for me? Is this the last flash before starting anew? Will it hurt? Will it matter if it does? Was I kind enough? Did I love with more than fit inside me?
Time is passing : not leaden stepping
But sprinting on winged feet,
Quick silver slipping by.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
A tear-drop of green.
Know what the best thing your true love can give you is?" I asked him.
"What?" said Dash.
"True love.
I long to drift through turquoise skies;
race the wind in rampant flight.
Ruddy chains have framed my eyes,
they seize my heart and stain the light.
As he stepped out of the science building, he tipped his head backward, as if Ronan Lynch - dreamer of dreams, fighter of men, skipper of classes - might somehow be flying overhead.
He was not.
The squall has ceased to be a cause of my complaint. The magic of the craft has opened for me a world in which I shall confront, within two hours, the black dragons and the crowned crests of a coma of blue lightnings, and when the night has fallen, I, delivered, shall read my course in the stars.
Like the kite that caught up to the sky,
painted with clouds, I lost track of it,
but it was connected
by string, something I was holding,
something I could always
bring back.
I'm still fly, I'm sky high and I dare anybody to try and cut my wings
slash that cuts through the countryside, winding beside a twin artery separated by tangles of scrub. Here and there the sediment that covers the road breaks and Zoey sees ghostly lines of yellow and white. Her face stings from the constant wind and she's slightly chilled, but she can't help
My eyes are not sparkly! I'm not a sparkly sort of girl ... I go around with dirty knees and slay dragons in my spare time, for the love of ... oh!
stopped: a final swish in the tall grass
chased by the shadows of clouds.
Buffeted but not broken.
Tears slid; tears fell; tears, like diamonds, collecting powder in the ruts of her cherry blossom cheeks.
coming
down
with
something
going
away
with
nothing
To hatch a crow, a black rainbow
Bent in emptiness
over emptiness
But flying
Thunderstorms and rainbows wrapped together in a convenient pocket-sized parcel.
Give me passion.
Flash.
Give me joy.
Flash.
Give me youth and energy and innocence and beauty.
Flash.
This story didn't end in fireworks, because the truth is, fireworks are something from my twenties. I could have made fireworks, but I chose to make a nuanced memory of a person who is neither a hero nor a villain in my life.
I let his rose wither in a vase on my desk, a vase painfully empty of flowers since the long-ago time when, on my birthday, Mario would give me a cattleya, in imitation of Swann. In the evening the flower was already black and bent on its stem. I threw it in the trash.
Broken lines do not know what they want. With their caprices they cut time up, abuse routes, slash the joyous flowers and split the peaceful fruits with their corners.
ripped the paper
Free from ivory-tower
the pencil twirls
across the footpath
Wings - -vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.
Someone smashed a flutterfler and without even thinking she touched her Stone and used Wyrd to piece its broken body back together. She filled its empty vessels with dreams and it became the stuff it used for blood. It brushed her cheek with its wings, then flew off
dancing in the hot air.
Where the loser saw barriers, the winner saw hurdles.
The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I.
Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled.
She snapped the box closed.
She didn't scream. She didn't run. She didn't faint.
There might have been a little crying.
But mostly ... she danced.
Running like a bunny with his tail on fire.
Artemis Fowl grinned right back at him and pointed his index finger to the sky ... from the tip of this finger sprang a small blue spark that exploded like a tiny firework.
"I know magic can be stolen," said Artemis. "Because I stole some myself.
My eyes filled with tears. "Get out."
"Pigeon," he said, taking a step toward me.
"Get OUT!" I said, grabbing the glass from the night stand and throwing it at him. He ducked, and it shattered against the wall in hundreds of tiny, glistening shards. "I hate you!
ran on blindly into the blind dark.
A golden past
That flees so fast,
No funny stuff in here tonight, you understand?"
Dash said, "I assure you I could not contemplate any of your so-called funny stuff seeing as how I have no idea why I'm even here."
Mark scoffed. "You bookish little pervert."
"Thank you, sir!" Dash said brightly.
Iridescent with fancy and winged it with paradox.
sputtered and then
Broken.
As I search for hope,
In the same eyes
I lost it.
The party blundered helplessly across the sky like a man leaning against an unexpectedly open door. It spun and wobbled on its hover jets. It tried to right itself and wronged itself instead.
When she left me
I stood out in the thunderstorm,
hoping to be destroyed by lightning.
It missed, first left, then right.
The whole passage was underlined in bleeding, water-soaked black ink. But there was another ink, this one a crisp blue, post-flood, and an arrow led from "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast.
Sing me a rainbow. Steal me a dream.
Give me terror.
Flash.
Give me panic.
Flash.
The night is falling down around us. Meteors rain like fireworks, quick rips in the seam of the dark ... Every second, another streak of silver glows: parentheses, exclamation points, commas - a whole grammar made of light, for words too hard to speak.
The granted for taken.
I was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. "Dash it all!" I said. There was nothing I hated more than being interrupted when I was about to do something gratifying with chemicals.
I clung to that spark of hope,
nurturing it into a small flame that
chased some of the shadows in my heart
away.
No spark, no boom.
Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.
Another day bleeds out on the horizon, red and pink and gold; staring up at the sky.
Hopes were high. But just like a balloon pushed past its breaking point, hope is fragile. One lungful of air too many and the balloon bursts leaving ugly, shriveled fragments behind, impossible to piece back together.
The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So - that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"
"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.
"Never mind," said Harry quickly.
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
A sense of mission lost
in ink's
jagged outcrops.
I was trying to tell myself
what I must have known
before
in a form
I wouldn't recognize at first.
Fate and victory shift ... now this way, now that way
like a line of unarmored men under a hail of enemy arrows.
Our lives are written in disappearing ink.
The box was nearly finished now, she thought, although it moved so quickly, in the padded claws, that it was difficult to see ... Abruptly, it floated free, tumbling end over end, and she sprang for it instinctively, caught it, and went tumbling past the flashing arms, her treasure in her arms.
If I'm not the one thing you can't stand to lose,
If I'm not that arrow to the heart of you,
If you don't get drunk on my kiss,
If you think you can do better than this then I guess we're done.
Let's not drag this on,
Consider me gone ...
dimmed completely.
I see the rainbow in the sky, the dew upon the grass; I see them, and I ask not why they glimmer or they pass. With folded arms I linger not to call them back; 'twere vain: In this, or in some other spot, I know they'll shine again.
I fell off my pink cloud with a thud.
As the components of your life are stripped away, after all the ambitions and hopes vaporize, you reach a self-reflective starkness
the repetitious plucking of a single overwound string.
One. Two. Three. Blink.
The line storm clouds fly tattered and swift,
The road is forlorn all day, ...
I like sparkly things.
Hope, that fragile tiny feather of a thing, flew away.
I'm screwed up, mixed up, messed around, dive-bombing, crashing and burning.
Just speed, raw speed, blinding speed, too much speed.
A moody child and wildly wise
Pursued the game with joyful eyes,
Which chose, like meteors, their way,
And rived the dark with private ray.
Always seein' 'wayoff dreams of silver-blue,
Always feelin' thorns that slab and sting.
Yet stampedin' never made a dream come true,
So I ride around myself and sing.
With the heat billowing out around us and inside us, the lights of the dash our only stars, Finn let his hands slide over me, breathing life into me, letting his colors flow through me, his mouth call out to me. And I met him at the door.
My journey has begun
and the direction is upwards.
I am shooting for the stars
and will come back with a shine
like never before.
I am blessed beyond measure.
Green grass breaks through snow,
Artemis pleads for my help,
I am so cool.
A blur of blinks, taps, jiggles, pivots and shifts ... the body language of a man wishing urgently to be elsewhere.
Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give.
Sharp are the arrows of a broken heart.
Nothing sparkly can stay.
Flung is too harsh a word for the rush of the world. Blown is more like it, but blown by a generous, unending breath.
A blot in thy escutcheon to all futurity.
Hesitated; swooped again; hesitated again; swooped once more
The fireworks bangbangbanged in sync with my heartbeat.
The rainbow is elusive, and its colors but the illumination of tears ...
The Flasher of '04.
He sent it flying at full speed. It jumped six times as well, sending ripples across the sea. The small splashes of foam turned into miniature rainbows as they caught the light of the evening sun setting behind the clouds.
Two dots an inch apart, as small and tidy as punctuation marks at the end of a sentence none of us could read. The sentence would have started somewhere just above her heart.
Chase has made me feel a lot of things today, things I thought I'd never feel again - excitement, giddiness, lust, possibility. But the most important one - the one I want to cling to like a girl who's been stumbling around for too long in the dark and has just spotted a sliver of light - is hope.
And dazzling memory revive.Refresh the faded tints, Recut the aged prints, And write my old adventures, with the pen Which, on the first day, drew Upon the tablets blue The dancing Pleiads, and the eternal men.