"A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment information technology is cleaved. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick upward your pieces. And so, assistance me get together mine." ― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
"When God takes out the trash, don't go earthworks back through it. Trust Him." ― Amaka Imani Nkosazana, Heart Vanquish
"When someone you beloved makes compassion, kindness, forgiveness, respect and God an option, yous can be sure they have made y'all an option, every bit well." ― Shannon 50. Alder
"Rubbish!" screamed a fatty, elderly woman, in Richard's ear, as he passed her malodorous stall. "Junk!" She connected. "Garbage! Trash! Offal! Debris! Come up and get it! Nothing whole or undamaged! Crap, tripe, and useless piles of shit. You lot know you want it." ― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere
"Crying is right at hand in the smothering nighttime, airtight within someone else, when you see how everything you can ever accomplish will terminate up as trash." ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
"American cities are similar badger holes, ringed with trash--all of them--surrounded past piles of wrecked and rusting automobiles, and about smothered in rubbish. Everything we use comes in boxes, cartons, bins, the and then-called packaging we love so much. The mountain of things we throw abroad are much greater than the things nosotros employ." ― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America
"It's called loitering, which is like littering with homo beings as the trash." ― Neal Shusterman, The Schwa Was Here
"On Sunday mornings, as the dawn burned into day, swarms of gulls descended on the uncollected trash, hovering and dropping in the cold clear light." ― Edward Conlon, Blue Blood
"She is a keen gobbler of books, but reads just trash, memorizing nothing and leaving out the longer descriptions." ― Vladimir Nabokov, Despair
"Americans make more trash than anyone else on the planet, throwing abroad about 7.1 pounds per person per day, 365 days a year. Across a lifetime that charge per unit means, on average, we are each on track to generate 102 tons of trash. Each of our bodies may occupy only ane cemetery plot when we're done with this world, only a unmarried person's 102-ton trash legacy will require the equivalent of one,100 graves. Much of that turn down will outlast any grave marker, pharaoh's pyramid or modern skyscraper: 1 of the few relics of our civilization guaranteed to exist recognizable twenty thousand years from now is the tater chip handbag." ― Edward Humes, Garbology: Our Dirty Beloved Thing with Trash
"Baby I own't trash. Trash is something yous throw away. My people keep me." (Nick Gautier)" ― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Infamous
"I think my wearing a paper-handbag dress will actually concenter more stares " he said dryly" ― Amy Tintera, Reboot
"When he lifted the comprehend of one of the trash cans, before emptying the contents of his own pail into it, he was e'er astonished by its neatness and order. His own trash was the most indecent drove in the entire building. Repugnant and despicable. There was no resemblance between information technology and the honest, twenty-four hours-to-day trash of the other tenants. That had a solid, respectable appearance, and his did not." ― Roland Topor, The Tenant
"I love you. I used to go out of my mode to avoid saying that. I'd make excuses, I'd change the subject, I'd do anything to spare myself from having to speak those words. Now they seem to exist the but words I'yard sure of. The only ones that make any sense to me. And no thing how many times I tell you, I don't think it will ever be plenty." ― Jacqueline E. Smith, Trashy Romance Novel
"In everything that I've left behind there lays everything that I demand to move ahead. Therefore, the past need not be a trash-heap. Rather, it tin be a treasure-trove." ― Craig D. Lounsbrough
"No one will make an offer to purchase your failings; yous must own them or dispose the flaws into the trash." ― RJ Intindola – (Gandolfo) – 1989
"The true claiming of charity is non in the gifting of your trash but of your treasure, not your worst but your best." ― Criss Jami
"Real treasure is not well-nigh what we want. Rather, it's nearly what nosotros need. And until we get those in the right social club, we will go on to utilize treasure to create trash heaps." ― Craig D. Lounsbrough
"The greatest gifts are non the things that delight us. Rather, they are the things that abound us. Therefore, we may have gladly received an affluence of possessions, but we may not have accepted a single gift." ― Craig D. Lounsbrough
"The Wombles was a hugely popular, blithe children's TV series, about a family unit of atomic creatures living on Wimbledon Common .... "making good use of the things that [they] find, things that the everyday folks leave behind. " information technology was substantially a show virtually recycling ... It became and then pop that Merton council, which presides over the borough of Wimbledon, had to bargain with a sharp increment in littering, after children desperate to catch a glimpse of these little eco-warriors began willfully discarding rubbish beyond the mutual." ― Simon Pegg, Nerd Do Well
"I simply don't get it. How does it happen, that expert people let worthless ones into their lives? Why tin can't we just go out those people who are nothing only trash? We are not a recycling company for God's sake. I wish we had "homo quality" scanners on our eyes set by default. Scanners which would reflect all the essence of people standing in front of usa. Can you lot imagine how much easier our lives would be?" ― Ash Gabrieli, Petrichor
"That's how one of my stories that has received the well-nigh praise from critics and, especially, from readers came to be published. Withal, that experience did not prevent me from continuing to rip upwards manuscripts I didn't remember were publishable, but rather taught me that it's necessary to tear them in such a way that they tin never exist pieced back together." ― Gabriel García Márquez, The Scandal of the Century: And Other Writings
"Let's promise I don't become a trashcan for crap books" ― Clockwork Reader
"If man was created in God's likeness, then God must take merely got rid of the trash when he threw man down onto Earth. Afterwards all, we exercise the same thing, don't we?
Somehow, I don't think God is like homo at all, exercise y'all?" ― Anthony T. Hincks
"Hence that country of mind at once gloomy and euphoric which one assembly with carrying out the rubbish; and the way we run into the men who go by emptying the bins into their pulping truck not just every bit emissaries for the chthonic globe, gravediggers of the inanimate, Charons of a beyond of greasy paper and rusty tin, but as angels too, as indispensable mediators between ourselves and the heaven of ideas in which we undeservedly soar (or imagine we soar) and which can exist simply in so far every bit we are not overwhelmed by the waste matter which every act of living incessantly produces (even the deed of thinking: these thoughts of mine that you are reading existence all that been salvaged from the scores of sheets of newspaper now crumpled up in the bin), heralds of a possible salvation beyond the destruction inherent in all production and consumption, liberators from the weight of time'south detritus, ponderous nighttime angels of lightness and clarity." ― Italo Calvino, The Road to San Giovanni
"If yous have a garbage in head, house cleaners won't help you." ― Tamerlan Kuzgov
"Jay got up and walked to the trash to scrape off his plate, only when the trash can popped open, he stopped and reached in. Mae got cold inside. Shit. That was where she had put everything from her satisfying clear-out earlier in the day, and she hadn't covered upwardly the things she was discarding with other trash, every bit she usually did. Damn it! She knew exactly what was coming. Jay stood up with a ratty stuffed chicken in his manus. "You can't throw this away. Ryder loves this." He did, but Mae hated it. The little stuffed craven---a gift from her sister when Ryder was born---had grown greyness and smelly and was beyond washing, and Mae had been able to slip it away from Ryder's bed for several nights running. With the trip, she figured he would forget about information technology, although she'd felt a tiny twinge of regret equally she'd stuffed it into the trash can. It was just that it was so gross at present, and at that place were and so many stuffies. If she didn't get rid of them, they'd have over. "He doesn't intendance about it. Not really," she said. It sounded weak, even to her. "Information technology's so filthy, Jay. He'south picayune. He'll like other things. It'southward just junk, anyway." Jay turned on her. "Y'all don't always get to determine what'due south junk, Mae. You don't get to pick and choose everything we have and everything we do and everywhere we become." "I don't. Just---some things. And information technology's not the same." Throwing abroad a toy was not the same as making all their life decisions---and how could she not brand decisions right now, when everything Jay wanted to do felt and so precarious? Couldn't he see that they wanted the same things, for the globe to stay nice and safety and solid around Madison and Ryder and around themselves? She knew Jay had moved effectually a lot as a kid, and that at least once his dad had handed him a shoebox and told him if it didn't fit in there, it couldn't come up. But sometimes you had to get rid of those things, fifty-fifty things you lot once loved, to make room for better things. And sometimes yous made mistakes. Don't bring upward the baseball glove. Don't bring up the baseball glove. She hadn't known the baseball glove was a perfectly worn-in classic Rawlings. Or that Jay had been hoping Madison or Ryder might use it someday. All she'd seen was that it was old. And kinda moldy. She honestly hadn't idea he would notice it was gone." ― K.J. Dell'Antonia, The Chicken Sisters
"Trash?" echoed Cadfael, mildly and thoughtfully.
"Oh, pleasant to have, and useful, I know. But in one case yous have enough of it for your needs, the rest of it is trash. Tin you eat information technology, wear it, ride information technology, continue off the rain and the cold with it, read it, play music on it, make love to it?" ― Ellis Peters, One Corpse Also Many
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