The Crow Quotes
"Abashed the Devil stood and felt how awful Goodness is." - T-Bird
"Little things, used to mean so much to Shelly. I used to think they were kind of trivial. . . believe me, nothing is trivial." - Eric Draven
"It can't rain all the time" - Eric Draven
"A building get torched. All that is left is ashes. I used to think that it is true about everything - family, friends, feelings - but now I know that sometimes if love proves real, and two people are meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart." - Sarah
"Greed is for amateurs. Disorder, chaos, anarchy: now that's fun!" - Top Dollar
"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn. People die. But real love lives forever." - Sarah
"Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children. Do you understand? Your daughter is waiting for you out on the streets." - Eric
"People used to think that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes... only sometimes the crow brings that soul back to set the wrong things right." - Sarah
The "If Your Name Was An Emo Song... Generator Thingy"
CONGRATULATION
forget my paranoia for the first time
Your Pokéname is:
Vaporzard
Profile
You live in the arctic wastes of Norway, and your diet consists mostly of bats, TV dinners and Dr. Pepper.
Characteristic
(Combat and Non-combat)
You can spit broken glass. You can spit hot death. You can swim in Mr. PiBB. You can float in water. You can shoot sledgehammers. You have interchangeabl
Natural Enemies
Your natural enemy is Mewrider.
robert philpott-The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Maharaja of Trannsylvania
Known in some parts of the world as:
Him of Seducers
The Great Archives Record:
Beautiful and alluring - hiding great power, great danger.
heather thomason-The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Margravine of Flesh
Known in some parts of the world as:
Seductress of Slovenia
The Great Archives Record:
A traveller in a foreign land, struck down by a mysterious wasting disease
anthony candela-The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Armand Arnauld
Known in some parts of the world as:
Zeus of The Flesh
The Great Archives Record:
A sensual one who knows the flesh - and knows the blood.
tyler edwards-The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Launcelot Deshoulières
Known in some parts of the world as:
Attila of Bucharest
The Great Archives Record:
A youth seduced by darkness and cults.
simon garland-The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Camuel de Pompadour
Known in some parts of the world as:
Samurai of Bats and Shadows
The Great Archives Record:
Slipping amongst the shadows, flitting between dark places, always quiet
Lets try to remember these days back in December
Our lives were very different
I was lonely when we first met
A small upstairs apartment
Driving through the darkness to get back home
Before they knew you were even gone
You don't have to speak because I can hear your heartbeat
Fluttering like butterflies searching for a drink
You don't have to cover up how you feel when your in love
I'll always know I'm not enough to even make you think
Please, slow down, girl
We're moving way too fast for their world
We've gotta make this last
I miss you so much, a self-inflicted coma
The days drag on I never thought of running with their feet
And when i feel the stress, I'm lonely and depressed
I picture you in the dress you wore four weeks ago
You don't have to speak because I can hear your heartbeat
Fluttering like butterflies searching for a drink
You don't have to cover up how you feel when you're in love
I'll always know I'm not enough to even make you think
Please, slow down, girl
We're moving way too fast for their world
We've gotta make this last
I know it hurts to feel so all alone
I'm by myself, more then you could know
If only they were all alone...
They were all alone...
Please, slow down, girl
We're moving way too fast for their world
We've gotta make this last
Slow down girl
We're moving way too fast for their world
We've gotta make this last
I know it hurts to feel so all alone
I'm by myself, more then you could know
If only they were all alone...
They were all alone...
They were all alone...
They were all alone...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door--
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainl
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;--
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door;----
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--littl
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--neverm
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respi
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--qui
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--neverm