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# Weekend Words: Drop
- URL: https://hyperallergic.com/weekend-words-drop/
- Published: 2016-01-24T14:34:42.000Z
- Updated: 2025-11-24T16:29:57.000Z
- Description: Look out! Oil prices and the world's financial markets continue to drop.
- Author: Weekend Editors
- Tags: Opinion, Weekend, Weekend Words, #wp, #wp-post, #image-position-hidden, #Import 2025-11-24 07:17 (2016, 2017, part 1)

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/51/f8/51f871d8-b6be-4a73-b958-0ca4fff0110a/content/images/hyperallergic-newspack-s3-amazonaws-com/uploads/2016/01/drop.jpg)

Anton Domenico Abbiani, “Fall of Icarus” (1691–92), red and white crayon, 430 x 365 mm, Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence (Image via Web Gallery of Art)

Look out! Oil prices and the world’s financial markets continue to drop.

> Dance, dance, for the figure is easy  
> The tune is catching and will not stop  
> Dance till the stars come down with the rafters  
> Dance, dance, dance till you drop.  
>  
> **—W. H. Auden, *Letter from Iceland​***

> I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.  
>  
> **—​Jack Kerouac, *On the Road​***

> I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
> I lift my eyes and all is born again.  
>  
> **​—Sylvia Plath, *The Bell Jar*​**

> A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another.​  
>  
> **—Ralph Waldo Emerson, *Essays*​**

> We swallow with one gulp the lie that flatters us, and drink drop by drop the truth which is bitter to us.  
>  
> **—Denis Diderot** 
> **​**

> Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.  
>  
> **—John Muir, *The Mountains of California***

> I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.  
>  
> **—D. H. Lawrence**

> But listen to me. For one moment  
> quit being sad. Hear blessings  
> dropping their blossoms  
> around you.  
>  
> **—​Rumi​**

> On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.  
>  
> **—Chuck Palahniuk, *Fight Club***

> These words dropped into my childish mind as if you should accidentally drop a ring into a deep well. I did not think of them much at the time, but there came a day in my life when the ring was fished up out of the well, good as new.  
>  
> **—Harriet Beecher Stowe**

> I have been one acquainted with the night.  
> I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.  
> I have outwalked the furthest city light.  
> I have looked down the saddest city lane.  
> I have passed by the watchman on his beat  
> And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.  
>  
> **—Robert Frost, “Acquainted​ ​with the Night”**

> Drop out of school before your mind rots from exposure to our mediocre educational system. Forget about the Senior Prom and go to the library and educate yourself if you’ve got any guts. Some of you like Pep rallies and plastic robots who tell you what to read.  
>  
> **—Frank Zappa**

> Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern.  
>  
> **—Haruki Murakami, *Norwegian Wood***

> Man was matter, that was Snowden’s secret. Drop him out a window, and he’ll fall. Set fire to him and he’ll burn. Bury him and he’ll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden’s secret.  
>  
> **—Joseph Heller, *Catch-22***

> A thing there was that mattered; a thing, wreathed about with chatter, defaced, obscured in her own life, let drop every day in corruption, lies, chatter. This he had preserved. Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death.  
>  
> **—Virginia Woolf, *Mrs. Dalloway***

> The clouds methought would open, and show riches  
> Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,  
> I cried to dream again.  
>  
> **—William Shakespeare, *The Tempest***

> Turn on, Tune in, Drop out.  
>  
> **—Timothy Leary,​*The Politics of Ecstacy***

> “Explore me,” you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out.  
>  
> **—Jeannette Winterson, *Written on the Body***