contembot
@contembot.bsky.social
you, who the world loved so dearly.
quotesbot of sentences i like, collected by @tirabeesu.bsky.social
quotesbot of sentences i like, collected by @tirabeesu.bsky.social
Come rip up the flesh of my fears! I know your fingernails are the colour of rust, and your veins are empty of dust. But our voices collide with each howl of the tide, singing all hell and its fire waits for us!
November 27, 2025 at 5:30 AM
Come rip up the flesh of my fears! I know your fingernails are the colour of rust, and your veins are empty of dust. But our voices collide with each howl of the tide, singing all hell and its fire waits for us!
Let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb.
November 27, 2025 at 4:30 AM
Let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb.
All will be well. Of this we are certain. How could it be otherwise, when every soul in the Crystarium is praying for it with all their heart?
November 27, 2025 at 3:30 AM
All will be well. Of this we are certain. How could it be otherwise, when every soul in the Crystarium is praying for it with all their heart?
You don't know what hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you.
November 27, 2025 at 2:29 AM
You don't know what hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you.
But to rescue a soul is as close
as anyone comes to God.
Think of Noah lifting a small black bird
from its nest. Think of Joseph
raising a son that wasn’t his.
as anyone comes to God.
Think of Noah lifting a small black bird
from its nest. Think of Joseph
raising a son that wasn’t his.
November 27, 2025 at 1:26 AM
But to rescue a soul is as close
as anyone comes to God.
Think of Noah lifting a small black bird
from its nest. Think of Joseph
raising a son that wasn’t his.
as anyone comes to God.
Think of Noah lifting a small black bird
from its nest. Think of Joseph
raising a son that wasn’t his.
from those who’ve fallen to those who rise, a prayer to keep us ever by your side.
an undying promise that we just might
carry on
in a song
an undying promise that we just might
carry on
in a song
November 27, 2025 at 12:24 AM
from those who’ve fallen to those who rise, a prayer to keep us ever by your side.
an undying promise that we just might
carry on
in a song
an undying promise that we just might
carry on
in a song
The manifestations of love are diverse. The core of love is often obscured.
November 26, 2025 at 11:20 PM
The manifestations of love are diverse. The core of love is often obscured.
Well come and well met, my brave little spark.
November 26, 2025 at 10:17 PM
Well come and well met, my brave little spark.
'Subconsciously there are many people you hate.'
'Consciously, sir, consciously.' Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. 'I hate them consciously’.
'Consciously, sir, consciously.' Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. 'I hate them consciously’.
November 26, 2025 at 9:17 PM
'Subconsciously there are many people you hate.'
'Consciously, sir, consciously.' Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. 'I hate them consciously’.
'Consciously, sir, consciously.' Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. 'I hate them consciously’.
Wheresoever you go, may you find shade, sinner.
November 26, 2025 at 8:14 PM
Wheresoever you go, may you find shade, sinner.
Let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb.
November 26, 2025 at 7:11 PM
Let the land come at you, love, with all its sand and sin a-singing. A song you once knew well's begun, run until your lungs are numb.
Your tears finally fall. When the world burns, someone has to stop it. Because this world is worth it. Even if it's on the verge of burning, already burning, or will become ash in the future.
November 26, 2025 at 6:08 PM
Your tears finally fall. When the world burns, someone has to stop it. Because this world is worth it. Even if it's on the verge of burning, already burning, or will become ash in the future.
Remember me, I ask. Remember me, I sing. Give me back my heart you wingless thing.
November 26, 2025 at 5:08 PM
Remember me, I ask. Remember me, I sing. Give me back my heart you wingless thing.
She looked like a dream scrawled across visible reality.
November 26, 2025 at 4:05 PM
She looked like a dream scrawled across visible reality.
Without end you create and you overcome. You are comets, madly joyous, madly ripping apart from primordial times the fabric of the black darkness.
November 26, 2025 at 3:03 PM
Without end you create and you overcome. You are comets, madly joyous, madly ripping apart from primordial times the fabric of the black darkness.
I promise I still dream of coming back to you, settling on your yellow for the kitchen.
November 26, 2025 at 1:59 PM
I promise I still dream of coming back to you, settling on your yellow for the kitchen.
Come with me, let’s spend a night in the country, my friend, you intimate of heaven’s stars, for winter’s finally over– you can hear the doves and swallows chattering. We’ll lounge beneath the pomegranate trees, plum trees, apple trees, everything lovely and leafy.
November 26, 2025 at 12:57 PM
Come with me, let’s spend a night in the country, my friend, you intimate of heaven’s stars, for winter’s finally over– you can hear the doves and swallows chattering. We’ll lounge beneath the pomegranate trees, plum trees, apple trees, everything lovely and leafy.
You don't know what hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you.
November 26, 2025 at 11:59 AM
You don't know what hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you.
Atalanta says: That’s a breath, sweet boy, run on; drop whatever you can’t carry on your legs.
November 26, 2025 at 10:57 AM
Atalanta says: That’s a breath, sweet boy, run on; drop whatever you can’t carry on your legs.
If we show
none of the fear, it may tire of waiting
for the triggering flight, it may ask only
to lie between us and sleep, fur warm
on our skin, breath sweet on our necks
as it dreams of slaughter, as we dream
of feeding and taming it
or of being the first to run
none of the fear, it may tire of waiting
for the triggering flight, it may ask only
to lie between us and sleep, fur warm
on our skin, breath sweet on our necks
as it dreams of slaughter, as we dream
of feeding and taming it
or of being the first to run
November 26, 2025 at 9:57 AM
If we show
none of the fear, it may tire of waiting
for the triggering flight, it may ask only
to lie between us and sleep, fur warm
on our skin, breath sweet on our necks
as it dreams of slaughter, as we dream
of feeding and taming it
or of being the first to run
none of the fear, it may tire of waiting
for the triggering flight, it may ask only
to lie between us and sleep, fur warm
on our skin, breath sweet on our necks
as it dreams of slaughter, as we dream
of feeding and taming it
or of being the first to run
I love you, don't you know? I'll be with you all along, as long as you are kind /r/n to those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots.
November 26, 2025 at 8:57 AM
I love you, don't you know? I'll be with you all along, as long as you are kind /r/n to those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots.
Whirl, oh, blow, last days that cannot be compared with anything that went before!
November 26, 2025 at 7:56 AM
Whirl, oh, blow, last days that cannot be compared with anything that went before!
Petersburg possesses not three dimensions, but four; the fourth is subject to obscurity and is not marked on maps at all, except as a dot, for a dot is the place where the plane of this existence touches against the immense.
November 26, 2025 at 6:51 AM
Petersburg possesses not three dimensions, but four; the fourth is subject to obscurity and is not marked on maps at all, except as a dot, for a dot is the place where the plane of this existence touches against the immense.
My saint, she's dancing, as every step I choose to take begins to set the world aflame.
November 26, 2025 at 5:47 AM
My saint, she's dancing, as every step I choose to take begins to set the world aflame.
Am I, my Lord, a monster or sea? Are my bones made of iron, or my flesh of brass?
November 26, 2025 at 4:47 AM
Am I, my Lord, a monster or sea? Are my bones made of iron, or my flesh of brass?