Another Weekend Over Quotes & Sayings

The work-life balance is a harsh reality for so many women, who are forced every day to make impossible choices. Do they take their kids to the doctor ... and risk getting fired? Do they work weekends so they can afford to send their kids to better childcare ... even though it means even less time with their families? Do they take another shift at work, so they can pay for piano lessons for their kids ... even though it means they have to stop volunteering for the PTA? It just shouldn't be this difficult to raise healthy families. — Michelle Obama

Harvard neuroscientists Jason Mitchell and Diana Tamir found that disclosing information about the self is intrinsically rewarding. In one study, Mitchell and Tamir hooked subjects up to brain scanners and asked them to share either their own opinions and attitudes ("I like snowboarding") or the opinions and attitudes of another person ("He likes puppies"). They found that sharing personal opinions activated the same brain circuits that respond to rewards like food and money. So talking about what you did this weekend might feel just as good as taking a delicious bite of double chocolate cake. — Jonah Berger

When I taught the meditation on sound to the participants at my weekend workshop and had people open to the ringing of their cell phones, I was trying to introduce them to his method. By listening meditatively, we were changing the way we listen, pulling ourselves out of our usual orientation to the world based on our likes and dislikes. Rather than trying to figure out what was going on around us, resisting the unpleasant noises and gravitating toward the mellifluous ones, we were listening in a simpler and more open manner. We had to find and establish another point of reference to listen in this way, one that was outside the ego's usual territory of control. You might say we were simply listening, but it was actually more complex than that. While listening, we were also aware of ourselves listening, and at the same time we were conscious of what the listening evoked within. Unhooked from our usual preoccupations, we were listening from a neutral place. — Mark Epstein

Another night then,' Mom said. 'Maybe on the weekend we can have a barbecue and invite your sister.'
'Or,' I said turning to Rafe, 'if you want to skip the whole awkward meet-the-family social event you could just submit your life story including your view on politics religion and every social issue imaginable along with anything else you think they might need to conduct a thorough background check.'
Mom sighed. 'I really don't know why we even bother trying to be subtle around you.'
'Neither do I. It's not like he isn't going to realize he's being vetted as daughter-dating material.'
Rafe grinned. 'So we are dating.'
'No. You have to pass the parental exam first. It'll take you awhile to compile the data. They'd like it in triplicate.' I turned to my parents. 'We have Kenjii. We have my cell phone. Since we aren't yet officially dating I'm sure you'll agree that's all the protection we need.'
Dad choked on his coffee. — Kelley Armstrong

The latter is very prepubescent."
"Prepubescent!" Josh gasped. "Prepubescent!"
"I am totally pubescent," one of his friends said.
Another said haughtily, "I will have you know that my mom and I are going to Aspen to shop for training bras this weekend."
I rolled my eyes. "Later." I slid off the bench and stood.
"Hey,we're helping you go off the jump again tomorrow,right?" Josh asked, using the word helping very loosely.
"Yeah," another boy said, "eleventh time's the charm."
I looked toward the Galaga machine. Fiona was still there, yet Nick was gone. Probably just to order her a drink.Ordinarily, I would have bounced all over the restaurant searching for him so I could flirt him out of Fiona's pink-nailed grasp. But the whoopee cushion had taken the wind out of my sails. — Jennifer Echols

Yes, but another writer I read in high school who just knocked me out was Theodore Dreiser. I read An American Tragedy all in one weekend and couldn't put it down - I locked myself in my room. Now that was antithetical to every other book I was reading at the time because Dreiser really had no style, but it was powerful. — Joan Didion

As distasteful as it is to decline your invitation, I'm afraid that it is preferable to attending yet another half-assed weekend eating gunky canapes in that cesspool of a shack you call a beach cottage. — A.C. Kemp

In view of all the deadly computer viruses that have been spreading lately, Weekend Update would like to remind you: when you link up to another computer, you're linking up to every computer that that computer has ever linked up to. — Dennis Miller

Maybe it's not my weekend
But it's gonna be my year
And I'm so sick of watching while the minutes pass as I go nowhere
And this is my reaction
To everything I fear
Cause I've been going crazy I don't want to waste another minute here — All Time Low

No,' Dahlia said, 'because I think people like him think work is supposed to be drudgery punctuated by very occasional moments of happiness, but when I say happiness, I mostly mean distraction. You know what I mean?'

'No, please elaborate.'

'Okay, say you go into the break room,' she said, 'and a couple people you like are there, say someone's telling a funny story, you laugh a little, you feel included, everyone's so funny, you go back to your desk with a sort of, I don't know, I guess afterglow would be the word? You go back to your desk with an afterglow, but then by four or five o'clock the day's just turned into yet another day, and you go on like that, looking forward to five o'clock and then the weekend and then your two or three annual weeks of paid vacation time, day in day out, and that's what happens to your life. — Emily St. John Mandel

It used to be called the Lord's Day, now it is the weekend and if we group all holidays on weekends the devil will have scored another move against Sunday worship. — Vance Havner

No beautiful, I'm not seeing anyone. I've been real focused myself. But I'm not foolish enough to let you get by. Even if I have to go through two over-protective dads," Genesis answered. "So. I've got to get back on the road, but I'll see you next weekend. Friday night eight o'clock sharp. And trust me, I won't be late." Genesis bent and kissed Curtis on his cheek. Curtis blushed terribly in front of everyone. This was so ridiculous, they had absolutely no privacy. Genesis gave him another wink before he released his hand and turned to walk up the stairs. His dads walked over to him and Ruxs handed him his suit jacket. He snatched it out his dad's hand and turned to walk out the front door. "Have fun dads." Curtis could hear Day's laugh after his comment, along with the other men, as he walked angrily up the driveway to their car. His dads had made a circus act out of a very nice moment he'd shared with a really great guy. — A.E. Via

When my TV show, 'Sports Jobs with Junior Seau,' assigned me to be a 'Sports Illustrated' reporter for a weekend, I didn't realize I'd have to squeeze it in around another sports job. I had planned to retire from the NFL to enjoy the cushy lifestyle of a full-time reality TV star, but I wound up getting run over by a bull. — Junior Seau

Unfortunately, there's still a market for rubbish. I picked up a recently written fantasy book at the weekend, and one character said of another: "He will grow wroth." Oh, my God. And the phrase was in a page of similar jaw-breaking, mock-archaic narrative. Belike, i'faith ... this is the language we use to turn high fantasy into third-rate romantic literature. "Yonder lies the palace of my fodder, the king." That's not fantasy - that's just Tolkien reheated until the magic boils away. — Terry Pratchett

Are you planning to go into writing as a career?'
'Yes, yes, that's what this is all about for me. I'm planning to write another short story this weekend. Have you read Hemingway by the way?'
'Oh yes. Part of growing up.'
'A bit like that, yes. Straight to the point. Simple and clear. With weight behind it. — Karl Ove Knausgard

I just don't think pastors should turn their pulpits into public policy platforms. It cheapens the gospel. Our congregation doesn't need another political opinion. They need spiritual revelation. They don't need to think about politics on the weekend. They need to be reminded to seek first the kingdom of God. — Mark Batterson

Every time I thought the bag must be empty, he brought yet another item out. It was like he'd hijacked Mary Poppins's luggage on her way to a fetish weekend. — Abigail Barnette

Are those the Edible Undies cupcakes?" one of the women in the kitchen asked.
"They're the Nipple Lickers," Kimmie answered. "Without the nipples."
"I heard you perfected the Sex on a Peach cupcakes," another feminine voice said.
"Can you squeeze me in for a double order of Spank Me Strawberries the weekend before Knot Fest? — Jamie Farrell

Just a moment.
Just 1 second, just 1 more minute, just give me another hour or maybe the weekend to think it over it's not so much it's not so hard it's all we ever ask for it's a simple request.
But the moments the seconds the minutes the hours the days and years become one big mistake, one extraordinary opportunity slipped right through our fingers because we couldn't decide, we couldn't understand, we needed more time, we didn't know what to do.
We don't even know what we've done.
We have no idea how we even got here when all we ever wanted was to wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night and maybe stop for ice cream on the way home and that one decision, that one choice, that one accidental opportunity unraveled everything we've ever known and ever believed in and what do we do?
What do we do from here? — Tahereh Mafi

They needed a date. They had been saying that for months. He would give her a date. He imagined grandiose affairs with fine clothes and elaborate food in luxurious surroundings. A film of her choice or a couple hours in a bookstore would have suited her, and him. This weekend would pass like all the others. Time would steadily work its way past them. Monday would bring another airplane. — John T. Sonne

The football playoffs feature one-off affairs, without bad feelings building from weekend to weekend. In addition, football uses platoons for offense and defense and kicking, so only the interior linemen have a chance to really get up close and personal with one another. — George Vecsey

One of the biggest, and possibly the biggest, obstacle to becoming a writer ... is learning to live with the fact that the wonderful story in your head is infinitely better, truer, more moving, more fascinating, more perceptive, than anything you're going to manage to get down on paper. (And if you ever think otherwise, then you've turned into an arrogant self-satisfied prat, and should look for another job or another avocation or another weekend activity.) So you have to learn to live with the fact that you're never going to write well enough. Of course that's what keeps you trying
trying as hard as you can
which is a good thing. — Robin McKinley

I'm keeping a list of Mr. Wrongs going for you. This one might not make it to the weekend's auction."
"Stop," said another woman.
"I'm just kidding."
"I still vote we strip him down." This was a third woman.
Wait. Three women? Had he died and gone to orgy heaven? Awake now, Ty took stock. He wasn't dead. And he had no idea who the fuck Mr. Wrong was, but he was very much "going to make it." He was stuffed in the back of a car, a small car, his bad leg cramping like a son-of-a-bitch. His head was pillowed on ... he shifted to try to figure it out, and pain lanced straight through his eyeballs. He licked dry lips and tried to focus. "I'm okay."
"Good," one of them repeated with humor. "He's fine, he's okay. He's also bleeding like a stuck pig. Men are ridiculous."
-Ty and the Chocoholics ladies — Jill Shalvis

(After getting out of another treatment center) I came home one Sunday morning. I sat on the edge of my bed. I never grew up going to church. I never read a Bible. I wasn't anti-God. I just never thought about God. I just lived for myself and thought about myself ... I was married by this point. I'd been married for two years. So, here I am sitting on the edge of my bed, nine o'clock Sunday morning. I have a son who's not quite two yet and I just broke down crying because I had been out all weekend doing cocaine. — Jay Haizlip

One day blurs into the next, one week is indistinguishable from another. Their existence consists of waiting for the weekend, then waiting for retirement, and then waiting for death. — Marta Acosta

The Porsche was just a vehicle to get to another place. I used it to change people's perceptions of me. I had grown up really middle class. USC was filled with elitists, richies who would go skiing every weekend. So I pretended like I was part of that world - to be accepted. — Brian Grazer

One does not find freedom or enact responsibility by surrendering to another's conceptualization of these ideas. — Darrell Calkins

Dinner later. My house. Bring clothes for the weekend, 'cause you won't be making it home." Ty didn't say another word, just turned and headed for the elevator at a stroll, shrugging into his overcoat as he went. Zane watched him go, enjoying the sight. "Score," he said under his breath before he grabbed his phone and keys and hurried to follow. — Madeleine Urban

Nobody wants to give up a weekend-long excuse to dress up and attempt to outshine one another. — Elizabeth Eulberg

I once spent a weekend on Earth,
With two men (of science; and god)
One man convinced me I did not exist,
And the other that I was a fraud.
In both men I saw the same reason,
In bothmen i saw the same light,
So I left for another dimension,
Assuming that both men were right."

- The Alien

From the novel 'Ineffable — C. Sean McGee

The moment I met her she struck me dumb, deaf, and stupid. At only eighteen, she'd had everything - brains, beauty, class. And she'd known it too. In the eight years since, I've watched her toy with one man after another, sometimes for a weekend, sometimes for a couple of months. But the affairs always ended the same. With her handing him his hat and a don't-slam-the-door-on-your-way-out. — Magda Alexander

They say we have weak wills. Do you know about the two drunks who went to the film of The Lost Weekend. Came out staggering. "My God I'll never take another drink," said the first. "My God I'll never go to another movie." How's that for commitment? — John Berryman

They waited awhile before lighting the candles; the gloom allowed the past to slip cozily into the present. But the memories were of a time that was gone and didn't overshadow the present. But the memories were vivid, and they made the freinds feel both young and old ... When Chrsitanne finally lit the candles and they saw one another clearly again, she was happy to see in the old faces of the others the young faces they had come across in their memories. we store our youth wihtin us, we can go back to it and find ourselves in it, but it is past
melancholy filled their hearsts, and sympahty, for one another and for themsleves. — The Weekend

We were hockey gypsies, heading down another gravel road every weekend, plowing into the heart of that magnificent northern landscape. We never gave a thought to being deprived as we travelled, to being shut out of the regular league system. We never gave a thought to being Indian. Different. We only thought of the game and the brotherhood that bound us together off the ice, in the van, on the plank floors of reservation houses, in the truck stop diners where if we'd won we had a little to splurge on a burger and soup before we hit the road again. Small joys. All of them tied together, entwined to form an experience we would not have traded for any other. We were a league of nomads, mad for the game, mad for the road, mad for ice and snow, an Arctic wind on our faces and a frozen puck on the blade of our sticks. — Richard Wagamese

For you I'll always be Alison who slept around. That Australian girl who had an abortion. The human boomerang. Throw her away and she'll always come back for another weekend of cheap knock. — John Fowles