And for fifty minutes every Tuesday and Thursday, between two o’clock and two fifty, I talk. How I do talk.
Go wide, go wide, roll you Tide, we don’t run and we don’t hide, we’re the ‘Bama Crimson Tide!
The superflu we can charge off to the stupidity of the human race. It doesn’t matter if we did it or the Russians, or the Latvians.
Mr. Keene smiled. Think what you like, that smile said. Think what you like, and I’ll think what I like. “All I’m telling you, Eddie, is that you’re not physically ill. Your lungs don’t have asthma; your mind does.
The wind blows and the story comes. Then it stops blowing, and all I can do is wait, same as you. They think I’m in charge, every one of them from the smartest of the critics to the most mentally challenged reader. And that’s a real hoot. Because I’m not.
When you were building that all-important stairway to heaven, you couldn’t just stand around with your hammer in your hand.
There were no stars, but he could still make out the moon behind the clouds that were moving in. The truth was often like that, he thought – a bleary circle of light behind clouds. Sometimes it broke through; sometimes the clouds thickened, and the light disappeared completely.
God isn’t as important to people now,” my mother said one day after a particularly disappointing turnout. “A day will come when they’ll be sorry for that.
A liberal arts education teaches you how to think – I read that somewhere. The hard facts you learn are secondary to that. The big thing you take away from school with you is how to induct and deduct in a constructive way.
Can you keep a secret? Say no and I’ll have to kill you.
What you bought, you owned, and what you owned eventually came home to you.
You can’t be careful on a skateboard, man.” – some kid.
I would argue that – fantasies aside – the majority of men are monogamous from the chin up.
But all it is, is needing someone warm, needing to be warm. Needing to love. Is that so bad?
When the dust bunnies and the dreams of what could have been were all I had left, I took the dreams and made them my own.
Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?
Gravity is the anchor that pulls us down into our graves. There would be no grave for this man, and no more gravity, either. He had been given a special dispensation.
Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
No one rides for free, and in the end, even the most seaworthy ship goes down, blub-blub-blub. The only way to balance that off, in Hodges’s opinion, is to make the most of every day afloat.
It was quarter past four, that deadly time of morning when it’s too late to go back to sleep and still too early to rise and shine.