Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Wreckage. 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 Wreckage Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Rachel Cusk,Douglas Brinkley,Jenny Han,Abby Sunderland,George Orwell for you to enjoy and share.
So much is lost, he said, in the shipwreck. What remains are fragments, and if you don't hold on to them the sea will take them too.
The superhighway of celebrity and showmanship is filled with debris.
A slow-motion train wreck. For something to go this colossally wrong, everything must intersect and collide at the exact right, or in this case, wrong, moment.
I'm one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.
Sheltering in Tube stations, the piles of rubble
The roads of life are strewn with the wreckage of run-down and half-finished loves.
During the mission, Walter Jones, a team member was given a package containing bone fragments by a Lao. The source said they were from a crash site. He presented photographs showing himself in company with others digging around obvious aircraft debris.
The next morning, the earth was strewn with debris from the windstorm the night before. An audience of trees looked down on severed limbs cast about the ground, their hunched and beaten postures reminding me of a congregation of amputees gathered in the wake of a war.
Every ruin gives you a clear message: Even your most durable things will turn into ruins!
looked some more. Beside the ship, cargo cranes reared up into the night sky like abandoned props from Star Wars. A
Floating high on the waters of catastrophe
mashed into a casserole of wreckage that still smoked and burned.
Is the scraping off of a barnacle the destruction of a ship?
My rebirth had crumbled apart, and all I had left was the rubble to build with.
Most people's lives - what are they but trails of debris, each day more debris, more debris, long, long trails of debris with nothing to clean it all up but, finally, death.
Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck,
And hear a cry from a reeling deck!
One train wreck at a time, I always say.
There's nothing as dear as the sight of ruins.
Ruined chimneys rose above masses of broken bricks
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
I am a woman built upon the wreckage of myself.
I could see the bay in the distance and where the ship should have been. Instead we found a burnt mast protruding from the waves.
Yanking at my leg, straining every muscle, my customized Gray Ghost rebuilt as a chopper sparks and squeals.
My boot catches and I'm flipped. Sliding down E-70 Highway on leather, my gloves scrubbed by the tarmac.
There is chaos. There's bloodshed. There's carnage.
Books. They tumbled from the bleeding sky like wounded birds. The spines snapping open and the pages fanning white. Black letters slipping off the slanted pages and falling, falling to the ground where they ... Shatter.
Today is the first day of the wreck of your life.
And of storehouses and of freight-trains - destruction
When life events mimic shattered glass,
carefully locate the pieces then gently pick them up.
Drowning, she clung fiercely to that small, splintered piece of mast bobbing in the ocean we call justice. There is no justice, of course, or very little of it, and counting on it as a life raft is a big mistake.
Trouble didn't just come in threes: it gathered passengers as it went, and crashed nastily into bystanders.
I'm screwed up, mixed up, messed around, dive-bombing, crashing and burning.
Just shattered structures rising up like rotten teeth from a diseased jaw.
These are the ruins
I mapped onto my body so I might always be lost.
...while the stony bones of the world tore past and the air grew dark and howling. The last thing he saw as the gulley became a torrent of dust and rock was the Jeep, plucked backwards into space.
The detonation was deafening, the blast a bruised gout of flame that drove back the airborne sand and the wind carrying it, and flung the attackers and their mounts like a god's hand, backward onto the road and off the sides.
I am a woman built on the wreckage of herself, Narrator
of the station wagon tearing up the
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates. Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts.
I saw a boy of the crew purchasing javelins of them with bits of platters and broken glass.
The cries of the sufferers on the remaining part of the wreck were heard during the night.
We live ruins amid ruins.
Mud and water and the stumps of trees. In every direction that was all there was. Bodies fell, but the trees died standing up.
Union of the Hideously and Improbably Deformed,
...I was a shattered wreck,--the shadow of a human being.
The things that mattered
Were broken and shattered
One by one
Trash? The only trash I see here are two little boys lost at sea and a pathetic excuse for a seaworthy vessel!
The world is brimming with plaster replicas, and the point is to smash them to bits, to create an upheaval so acute it cannot be anticipated or resisted.
A boat, even a wrecked and wretched boat
still has all the possibilities of moving
Momentum carried the truck's rear wheels up and off the ground. From the perspective of Howard's low-slung sports car, the heaving back end of the truck was the mouth of a monster gaping wide to swallow him.
There's nothing like a shipwreck to spark the imagination of everyone who was not on that specific ship.
Life had jerked the carpet out from underneath us and left a shattered mess
I love smashing stuff.
Cars and trucks were everywhere but parked in driveways. They were crushed in the middle of the street, flipped upside down, wrapped around poles. And
There's a hole as big as Lucifer's arse in the hull where the powder barrels blew out,
Jock put his shoulder to the framework and the whole thing crumbled inward with a crash of glass.
"Rotten as touch-wood," he said. "This place would never stand a siege.
The witnessing of titanic events is always dangerous, usually painful, and often fatal.
Sometimes when you break things, you can hold them together for a while with string or glue or tape. Sometimes, nothing will hold what's broken, and the pieces fly all over, and though you think you might be able to find them all again, one or two will always be missing
The strange sense of being disassembled
A community of smashed up things and somehow everyone was willing to share the superglue
Along the Pacific shore I saw a sign that said this: "Life in the Crash Zone: Wind against sea creates friction, causing waves to crest, then break with fury against the shore. Anything that finds itself in this crash zone has to hide out or hang on for dear life.
You're a beautiful wreck.
I was relieved in some weird way that the accident had actually occurred. It was a physical manifestation of what had already been going on inside the car. The outside now matched the inside - damaged beyond repair. (113)
These bits speak history's tattered tale. How we cling to scraps, shards, sea glass- because we cannot stay.
The space between the next two buildings was crowded with four torn bodies, limbs shredded from torsos, intestines strewn like party streamers. Suddenly one of the torsos jerked into the darkened alley beyond, dragged by something hidden in shadow.
The fate of all things cherished and expensive, to be lost at hazard, and well before their time
What opium is instilled into all disaster? It shows formidable as we approach it, but there is at last no rough rasping friction,but the most slippery sliding surfaces. We fall soft on a thought.
The Engineer began dismantling the helmet at a breakneck speed, stacking the components - faceplate, lining, mikes, data processor, even microfans - on the nearest flat surface, a hydroplane-like structure on a small vessel.
the Pieces" by The Wreckers
Somewhere high overhead on the other side of the freighter, metal ground against metal making a sound like angry mechanical whales fucking.
Train wrecks waiting to happen were mesmerizing.
Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.
I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park.
Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.
To the lost, transfixed among the self-inflicted ruins,
All that is non-air (if this indeed is not deception)
Is agony immobilized. While Time,
The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.
What a beautiful disaster.
Then I reached the second building and saw the conflagration. A bonfire twenty feet high. The wreck of a Hummer, its carcass barely visible behind the veil of flame.
The drama's done. Why then here does any one step forth? - Because one did survive the wreck.
Along the way, he or she discovers that the world has been broken for as long as anyone can remember. Everyone, sooner or later, gets a thorough schooling in brokenness.
The question becomes what to do with the pieces?
My name is James Holden," he said, "and my ship, the Canterbury, was just destroyed by a warship with stealth technology and what appear to be parts stamped with Martian navy serial numbers. Data stream to follow.
My heart is shattered, an all that's left are jagged shards.
The devices meant to float at sea and capture the waves' power have been destroyed in short order by . . . the waves. "they've all been smashed up in storms," Challenor said, shaking his head.
The glass wall behind must have blown out as well, four stories of lethal shards surfing the roar of air and fire.
I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes ... are maps ... I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail
The high shelf
Where you stacked the bad thing, hoping for calm,
Broke. It rolled down. It follows you to the end.
spraying shards of glass and metal into the station.
Ruins, for me, are the beginning. With the debris, you can construct new ideas. They are symbols of a beginning.
Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
Every life is, more or less, a ruin among whose debris we have to discover what the person ought to have been.
Oh what was the racket that backeted and smashed in raging might, to make this oil-puddle world?
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground
Two broken pieces making a whole.
The banging and slamming and booming and crashing were something beyond belief. [On Lohengrin]
The accidents of history are everywhere. The carnage all around us.
Two broken shards, two drained batteries, two men who were merely shells. What
to the right collapsed, further burying the former
What twists or rage greater than we could ever guess had savaged skylines, thousands of lives?
Secondhand experience breaks down a block from the car lot.
The world was ripping apart. And pieces of the wreckage were raining all around me.
On a hairpin turn, above the dead forest, on no day in particular, a white Toyota crashed into a black Mercedes, for a moment blending into a blur of gray.
The seeming paradoxes of beauty and truth collide and individuality emerges from the debris. We spend our lifetimes dusting it down.
One misstep was all it took, and it all came crashing down. And they were right there waiting for it - eager and ready to bury me in the wreckage.