Towns are like people. Old ones often have character, the new ones are interchangeable.
Wallace StegnerLong ago the country bore the country-town and nourished it with her best blood. Now the giant city sucks the country dry, insatiably and incessantly demanding and devouring fresh streams of men, till it wearies and dies in the midst of an almost uninhabited waste of country.
Oswald SpenglerTags: city town agrarian countryside the-decline-of-the-west world-city
Will you be all right?" she asked
How could I be?
Would you be all right, I felt like screaming, if you'd just watched your family taken away, watched your entire town taken away, to be murdered. I'll never be alright.
In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities; people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class; every hour carries its new challenge. When you pass the inn at the end of the village you leave your favourite whimsy behind you; for you will meet no one who can share it. We listen to eloquent speaking, read books and write them, settle all the affairs of the universe. The dumb village multitudes pass on unchanging; the feel of the spade in the hand is no different for all our talk: good seasons and bad follow each other as of old. The dumb multitudes are no more concerned with us than is the old horse peering through the rusty gate of the village pound. The ancient map-makers wrote across unexplored regions, 'Here are lions.' Across the villages of fishermen and turners of the earth, so different are these from us, we can write but one line that is certain, 'Here are ghosts.' ("Village Ghosts")
W.B. YeatsTags: minority ghosts small-towns towns small-town village town villages
Somewhere, things must be beautiful and vivid. Somewhere else, life has to be beautiful and vivid and rich. Not like this muted palette -a pale blue bedroom, washed out sunny sky, dull green yellow brown of the fields. Here, I know ever twist of every road, every blade of grass, every face in this town, and I am suffocating.
Lisa Ann SandellTags: life rich sky beautiful face grass dull town somewhere vivid palette a-map-of-the-known-world muted suffocating
أذكر كيف أننا حين كنا أطفالا ,كنا دوما نردد هذا اللحن .."بكتب أسمك يا بلادي على الشمس الي ما بتغيب..
فيا وطنا شبيها بعرائس الحقول وطباشير الحائط وخيطان الطائرات الورقية الملونة
ويا وطنا شبيها بأصائل الرنج والزهر وضجيج المدارس
..ويا وطنا شبيها بدهشة تلك البدايات ...باسم جميع أطفال الخضراء ..أقدم لك اعتذاري .. .
Stay alive. I will find you
.. امى الارض.. و والدى هندي احمر.. فى جبهتى رصاصة و خلفى قطيع من الدبابات .تدوس احلام وطنى ... فإن اختلفنا يا وطني، ففضاء قبرك الكبير سيحتضننا جميعاً في مسيرة العودة.
Tags: wolf town وطن mohicans الارض
The moon seemed to veil herself before the bold looks of Satan. The night was cold. All the doors were closed, all the windows darkened. and the streets deserted. From their appearance, one would have imagined that, for a long time past no foot had traversed those silent streets. Everything around us bore a death-like aspect. It seemed as if, when day came, no one would open their doors; that no head, of woman or of child, would look out of those dark, dull windows; that no step would break the silence which fell, like a pall, upon all around. I seemed to be walking in a city which had been buried some ages. In truth, the town seemed to have been depopulated, and the cemetery to have grown full.
Still we went forward, without hearing a murmur, or meeting even with a shadow. The street stretched for a long way across this fearful city of silence and repose. At last we reached my house.
'You remember it?' said the fiend.
'Yes,' replied I, sullenly, 'let us enter.'
'First,' said he, 'we must open the door. It is I, by the way, who invented the science of opening doors without breaking them in. In fact, I have a second key to all doors and gates - with one exception - that of Paradise!
Tags: devil night satan lonely doors late key keys door town lock locks deserted
This is what they mean by 'ghost town', she thought. It truly feels like a place frozen in time
Jeremy RobinsonTags: queen ghost werewolf town chernobyl orobot pripyat
I told her about the best and the worst. The slow and sleepy places where weekdays rolled past like weekends and Mondays didn’t matter. Battered shacks perched on cliffs overlooking the endless, rumpled sea. Afternoons spent waiting on the docks, swinging my legs off a pier until boats rolled in with crates full of oysters and crayfish still gasping. Pulling fishhooks out of my feet because I never wore shoes, playing with other kids whose names I never knew. Those were the unforgettable summers. There were outback towns where you couldn’t see the roads for red dust, grids of streets with wandering dogs and children who ran wild and swam naked in creeks. I remembered climbing ancient trees that had a heartbeat if you pressed your ear to them. Boomboom-boomboom. Dreamy nights sleeping by the campfire and waking up covered in fine ash, as if I’d slept through a nuclear holocaust. We were wanderers, always with our faces to the sun.
Vikki WakefieldTags: lovely traveling town wanderer
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