Bag Line Quotes & Sayings

Both money and art powdered as they are with the romance and poetry of the age are magic. Rather money is magic art is magik. Money is stagecraft slight of hand a bag of clever tricks. Art is a plexus of forces and influences that act upon the senses by means of practical yet permanently inexplicable secret links. Admittedly the line between the two can be as thin as a dime. — Tom Robbins

Must have been some dream, sir. Did you eat something unusual last night, I wonder?" "Come to think of it, Monsieur Fournier served herrings in some new garlic sauce, and I ate too many of them." Hudson's eyes glinted. "Herrings, you say? I shall have to remember that." He sighed. "What a man wouldn't do to have such dreams. — Julie Klassen

There was a time when rival teams used a shift against me. They would put the second baseman on the shortstop's side of the bag, move the shortstop into the hole to his right, and have the third baseman hug the foul line. The idea was to build an infield wall against a known right-handed pull hitter. — Harmon Killebrew

She looks tan ... -ish."
"There's a fine line between 'tan', and looking like you just rolled around in a giant bag of Doritos. And Miranda seems to prefer the nacho cheese variety. — Jena Leigh

After a steadying breath, Aislinn turned to Keenan. "I'm sure you can figure out lunch without help. So, umm, go make friends or whatever."
And she walked away.
He sped up to stay beside her as they entered the cafeteria. "May I join you?"
"No."
He stepped in front of her. "Please?"
"No." She dropped her bag into a chair next to Rianne's things. Ignoring him-and the stares they were attracting-she opened her bag.
He hadn't moved.
With a shaky gesture, she pointed. "The line's over there."
He looked at the throng slowly progressing to the vats of food. "Can I get you something?"
"A little space?"
A flare of anger flashed over his too-beatiful face, but he said nothing. He just walked away. — Melissa Marr

Happens every time. She gets up to go to the bathroom, leaving her bag behind to focus very intently on walking in a straight line. She's not drunk, she tells herself, but finally starting to relax. The worry of losing her job to the dreadful Louise is starting to recede, and life is looking rosy again, despite no plan and no viable ideas. In the bathroom mirror she — Jane Green

Lack of sleep is only bad if you have to drive, or think, or talk, or move. — Dov Davidoff

I stood for almost an hour in a line of shuffling, bitter - eyed late mailers (Christmas is such a carefree, low - pressure time - that's one of the things I love about it), ... — Stephen King

His mama put down the bag and headed for the door, her mouth a thin line.
"Wait! What are you doing? Don't go over there and yell at her." Paul jumped off the stool and tried to beat her to the door.
"Oh, honey, I would never do that." His mama stepped into the hallway. "I'm fixin' to invite her for dinner. — Mary Jane Hathaway

In the emergency of growing up, we all need heroes. But the father I grew up with was no hero to me, not then. He was too wounded in the head, too endlessly and terribly sad. Too funny, too explosive, too confusing. Heroes are uncomplicated. *This* makes them do *that* ... But the war does not make sense. War senselessly wounds everyone right down the line. A body bag fits more than just its intended corpse. Take the 58,000 American soldiers lost in Vietnam and multiply by four, five, six - and only then does one begin to realize the damage this war has done ... War when necessary, is unspeakable. When unnecessary, it is unforgivable. It is not an occasion for heroism. It is an occasion only for survival and death. To regard war in any other way only guarantees its inevitable reappearance. — Tom Bissell

Here's what you need to know: some cliches are true, and war is definitely hell. It's being afraid all the time, and when you're not afraid it's because you're pumped full of adrenaline you could literally burst. It's watching people who you love- really profoundly love- get blown to pieces right next to you. It's seeing a leg lying in the ditch and picking it up to put it in a bag because no man- or part of a man, your friend- can be left behind. It's the dark night of the soul. There's no front line over there. The war is all around them, every day, everywhere they go. Some handle it better than others. We don't know why, but we do know this: the human mind can't safely or healthily process that kind of carnage and uncertainty and horror. It just can't. No one comes back from war the same. — Kristin Hannah

You do not become a real pro in your field by doing certain things - you become a pro in your field by doing things in a certain way. — Bob Proctor

You see, I had been riding with the storm clouds, and had come to earth as rain, and it was drought that I had killed with the power that the Six Grandfathers gave me. — Black Elk

If I'm writing ... even a piece of a song ... I write it down. If it still resonates six months down the line, a year, even five, those are the ones you put in your bag and you take to the studio. You come to realize, the ones that don't make it, they were only meant to live for that moment in your notebook or on the 4-track-and plenty of songs never get any farther than the 4-track. — M. Ward

My ambition is to not have to work any more. In 10 years I want to stop, and I want to be living with my family, taking care of my house. I want to be a housewife. — Paz Vega

For work: I bought some pens. Normally, I used makeshift pens, the kind of unsatisfactory implements that somehow materialized in my bag or in a drawer. But one day, when I was standing in line to buy envelopes, I caught sight of a box of my favorite kind of pen: the Deluxe Uniball Micro. "Two ninety-nine for one pen!" I thought. "That's ridiculous." But after a fairly lengthy internal debate, I bought four. It's such a joy to write with a good pen instead of making do with an underinked pharmaceutical promotional pen picked up from a doctor's office. My new pens weren't cheap, but when I think of all the time I spend using pens and how much I appreciate a good pen, I realize it was money well spent. Finely made tools help make work a pleasure. — Gretchen Rubin

To give my freedom blindly to a being equal to or inferior to myself is to degrade myself and throw away my freedom. I can only become perfectly free by serving the will of God. If — Thomas Merton

Tying the laces. The bottom line was that Grandpa would have been willing to risk his life on the gamble that the shadows of Tanu and Coulter meant to offer meaningful assistance. He would have followed them if he could have done so alone. He simply was not willing to risk Seth's life. To Seth, this proved that the risk was worth taking. If Grandpa loved him too much to let him take a worthwhile risk, then he would bypass Grandpa. Shoes secure, Seth slid his emergency kit out from under the bed. Then he tiptoed down the attic stairs, flinching at every creak. At the bottom of the steps the house remained dark and quiet. Seth hurried along the hall and down the stairs to the entry hall. He stole into Grandpa's study, tugged a chain to turn on a desk lamp, and rummaged through Tanu's bag of potions. After examining several bottles, Seth found the one he wanted, grabbed it, and closed the bag. — Brandon Mull

I guess this is why I hate governments, all governments. It is always the rule, the fine print, carried out by fine-print men. There's nothing to fight, no wall to hammer with frustrated fists. — John Steinbeck

Eddie gave a long suffering sigh as he bent down to pick up his bedazzled bag. "Glory be, why do I debase myself with ignoramuses like you? The Kinsey scale is a very basic way of measuring where you fit in terms of hetero versus homo." he pulled his coat on and held his hands out at a distance, fingers straight, like he was measuring a fish. "Imagine a line. At one side you have hetero, at the other you have homo. And then there is everything in the middle. It's not actually that basic. In fact it's far more complicated, but I don't have time to tell you now since I need to walk home before I get any drunker. — Micaela Vee

SCHOOL BEGINS IN August this year. I live nearby, and so I walk and skip the bus. I read while I walk to school up the two hills, one sidewalk, a more or less straight line. I pretend the streets I pass through are empty. I have been reading about the Neutron Bomb. I want to be like that, radiant and deadly, a ghost of an impact, to pass through walls, to kill everyone, in flight among the empty houses, punching through molecules like a knife through a paper bag. See me. I am five feet and two inches tall. I am still thin, freckled, large eyes, small nose. My hair waves and grows long, to my neck. I pick flowers for my mother as I walk. The neighborhood kids call me Nature Boy. I want to die. Help — Alexander Chee