His head bowed down, His hands spun round, He cracked a stoic grimace. Arteta limped off At Newcastle.
Back tomorrow with a full post.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here
– Stoke City
And though he be but little, he is fierce.
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in ’t!
– the Transfer Market
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.
Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
– Samir Nasri
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the n*ggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
– Luis Suarez
One may smile and smile and be a villain
– Cesc (via @GiantGooner)
He’ll deliver all,
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off.
This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
He were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scour’d to nothing with perpetual motion
To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing.
– Tottenham Hotspurs
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow, and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favors nor your hate.
– Arsenal’s Youth Team
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
– Nicklas Bendtner
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart
And drop my blood for drachmaes than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection.
– What Arsenal Fans Want From Stan Kroenke
God hath given you one face and you make yourself another.
– Robin van Persie
The golden age is before us, not behind.
I dreamt of icy precipitation
That slipped beneath our pacy feet.
Of spidery snow
That filled in every chink
Of her sterile exterior.
I dreamt of hushed words of resignation
That passed breathlessly between us.
Of blue lips trembling,
That shame of loss
Of how we gave in to the fates.
I dreamt of wind swept jubilation
That moved us effortlessly together.
Of nail-bitten hands
That sloughed off their chains
Of their hopeful clawing.
I dreamt of a blue-eyed intoxication
That lasts a mere five minutes.
Of the eternity between her posts
That was promised but
Of which will never pass.
I dreamt of a bubbling elation
That carried us back to town.
Of winning a game
That was just a breath away from the perfect kiss
Of living in that moment forever.