Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Riproaring. 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 Riproaring Quotes And Sayings by 89 Authors including James Joyce,Patrick O'brian,David Mark,Madeline Sheehan,Eliza Crewe for you to enjoy and share.
We wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die:
What are bashed neeps?"
"Neeps hackit with balmagowry.
...this feeling that the air was tearing itself apart.
You scared of your old lady, Ripper?" ...
"Fuck you," he shot back. "I ain't scared of shit except havin' nowhere to put my dick when it gets cold and sad and wants a motherfuckin' hug.
I hear myself laughing, screeching, cackling. The world is red hot and pulsing. On fire [...] I stroll down the corridor and the flickering fluorescents celebrate my passing, humming in praise. I spin, bow and hum along. Bloody footprints trail; bloody fingers smear the walls.
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, / Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost.
What's a wingding? Why, a wingding is, uh ... it's just like a shindig but without all the hullabaloo.
Sword, I name thee Brisingr! And with a sound of rushing wind the blade burst into flame, an envelope of sapphire-blue fire writhing about the razor-sharp steel.
Do you hear that sound? It's the sound of the world ripping apart.
The daemoniac rattle and wheeze of a blasphemous organ, choking and rumbling out the mockeries of hell in a cracked, sardonic bass.
Groop I implore thee," continued the merciless Vogon, "my foonting turlingdromes.
The skybr>Scorched by the sun,br>Weepsbr>Fecund tears.
Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,
Nettled and stung with pismires[nettles], when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
howling alternately
This is dying - I know because I've done it before.
Ripred held up his paws in mock surprise. Oh, dear. Is this where we fight to the death? I didn't expect it so soon.
Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Lord, I mustn't lilt here.
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry!
O falling fire and piercing cry
and panic, and a weak mailed fist
clenched ignorant against the sky!
The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.
A squalid phantasmagoria of breath
What the creeping crud is that?" [Percy] demanded. "You're inside a giant glowing chicken-man!"
"Hawk!" I yelled.
I decided that if I survived this day I would have to make sure this guy never met Sadie. They'd probably take turns insulting me for the rest of eternity.
THE GRACKLE
The
Vamps who are dying, or think they are, give a piercing, eardrum-bursting shriek, like the love child of a screech owl and a mountain lion on crystal meth, amplified like a seventies rock band.
Did you hear?" he asked. "They found another body around nine this morning. It's the Ripper, definitely."
"Good morning," I replied.
"Morning. Listen to this. The second victim ...
I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of the cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.
Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes ... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling ...
Turning hurriedly away from the dead longpaw,
Aggle flabble kabble . . . snurp?
A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the reflection of a fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop.
misbegotten cockwaffle.
How she hated words, always coming between her and her life: they did the ravishing, if anything did: ready-made words and phrases, sucking all the live-sap out of living things.
Burning the small dead branches broke from beneath thick spreading whitebark pine. A hundred summers snowmelt rock and air hiss in a twisted bough.
Don't repeat this word again
Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.
Are you lishening, my pretty vermin, are you lishening?
He that lives upon hope will die farting.
Death that tears away clumps of us folks, stuffs thousands of the living, freshly plucked into its sack.
Farting, don't think, just fart.
snakelike hiss, undulating,
At the sight of Gansey's Aglionby sweater, Adam's father had charged out, firing on all cylinders. For weeks after that, Ronan had called Gansey "the S.R.F.," where the S stood for Soft, the R stood for Rich, and the F for something else.
The razorous shoulder blades sawing under the pale skin.
The bike that I've been riding is a Big Ripper. It' an SE Racing 29 bike that Famous [Stars & Straps] did a collaboration with and Travis [Barker] gave to me. So that's the bike that I cruise around on and bunny-hop on.
Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.
Damnation. Damnable, damned, damningly damnation.
verb swon to swear, derivative of swannee I swan, raising kids is like being pecked to death by a chicken
Impious! forbear thus the first general hail. To disappoint, Increase and multiply, To shed thy blossoms thro' the desert air, And sow thy perish'd offspring in the winds.
Spooky wild and gusty; swirling dervishes of rattling leaves race by, fleeing the windflung deadwood that cracks and thumps behind.
A flow'ret crushed in the bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying
Trees quiver in the wind,
sailing on a sea of mist
out of earshot.
Better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee,
Death from the skies!
It was a scream of loss so immense there was no speech for it. It was the wordless cry of having the sky over your head, the air in your lungs, ripped away from you forever.
Something deathless and dangerous in the world sweeps past you ... It is something fearful and ominous, something turbulent and to be dreaded, which distends the drama to include the life of nations as well as of men. It is an ageless warning ...
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling and halting.
I spread my fingers outward,
letting the knife tip of my
middle finger rip the sky as
it tares a rift in the moon.
I huffed out a deep breath. "It's something huge, isn't it?" Beezle nodded. "Yup."
There was a sound of several limbs splashing in the water. "Is it all squishy and tentacly?"
"Yup."
"I hate my life," I said, and as I turned I conjured a ball of nightfire and threw it.
have long time holden my peace; I have been still, and refrained myself: now will I cry like a travailing woman; I will destroy and devour at once.
Blow me, Grim Reaper!
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
Life folded Death; Death trellised Life; the grim god wived with youthful Life, and begat him curly-headed glories. Now,
Soul rotted before my eyes.
Death in the Clouds
That darkest of syllables, death.
the distant cries of the seagulls
ShadowClan is turning into a bunch of fox-hearts." Bluefur
this word needs to be reworded ==========
Shatter all your fear.
Outrageous!" said Apalling.
"Apalling!" said Outrageous.
Whatever makes your balloon red, Swopes.
Most horrid sound in the world, that of the once-was: alive in the past, perishing in the present, a corpse made of dust in the future.
And that we call enos ermarf."
"What?" I didn't see what he was pointing at.
"That. The way the lake curves forward into t grass, framed by derrishoul trees."
"You have a word for something like that?" I asked.
-Animorphs #4, The Visitor page 63
Lucy in the sky. Without her I am the walrus, likely to lose myself in dark gibberish and fade away." Lance Underphal, Cut-Throat Syndrome.
When a chainsaw rips into a 2,000 year old redwood tree, it's ripping into my guts. When a bulldozer plows through the Amazon rainforest, it's ripping through my side. And when a Japanese whaling ship fires an exploding harpoon into a great whale it's my heart that's being blown to smithereens.
beetle-spirited vaporing
A sight to touch e'en hatred's self with pity.
I feel like the word shatter.
Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.
In the space beyond was Hedra Ka. A cracking scab of a planet, choked with storms and veins of lava. A mist of rocks floated in orbit, a reminder of its recent formation. It was a young world, unwelcoming, resentful of its existence. 'That is the angriest looking thing I've ever seen,' Ashby said.
Ah! The anguish, the vile rage, the despair
Of not being able to express
With a shout, an extreme and bitter shout,
The bleeding of my heart.
His heart cringed from the fanning motion of ribs like pale spiders crouched and fiddling with their prey.
Something that sounded like ripping metal shredded the deadly quiet. The inaudible bass smoothed into a low, steady hum. Outside, a low, mechanical growl rumbled closer and closer. Darius caught his breath. He knew that sound, and it wasn't magic.
It was a motorcycle.
Your feather are drooping. - Evaline
...
Drat. - Mina
Her heart ruffled like a wind torn sail, held, yet ripped.
Ripper in the front, ZZ in the back, Dirty in the mouth.
The feeling of standing on the edge of a canyon and screaming, waiting for an echo that refused to come.
The demented strutting of a dumb bird in the moonlight.
A vile beastly rottenheaded foolbegotten brazenthroated pernicous piggish screaming, tearing, roaring, perplexing, splitmecrackle crashmecriggle insane ass of a woman is practising howling below-stairs with a brute of a singingmaster so horribly, that my head is nearly off.
I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.
A leech who, having penetrated the shell of a turtle only to find that the creature has long been dead, deems it expedient to form a new attachment to a fresh turtle.
contemptuous cough
And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once
That makes ingrateful man!
A sound waiting to be a word.
His words clip out like bullets from a gun - sharp, staccato, shiver-inducing.
What do you call the Hrothgar-wrecker when Hrothgar has been wrecked?
What art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.
How rough that wood was, wild, and terrible: By the mere thought my terror is renewed.
Cutting people. Those women were
A custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fume thereof nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.