I M Driving Slow Quotes & Sayings

How would my life change if I actually thought of each person I came into contact with as Christ - the person driving painfully slow in front of me, the checker at the grocery store who seems more interested in chatting than ringing up my items, the member of my own family with whom I can't seem to have a conversation and not get annoyed? — Francis Chan

If you are living for an ideal and driving yourself as hard as you can to be perfect - at your job or as a mother or as a perfect wife - you lose the natural, slow rythmn of life. There's a rushing, trying to attain the ideal; the slower pace of the beat of the earth, the state where you simply are, is forgotten — Marion Woodman

No. I was driving Tristan's car."
Ivy heard the sharp intake of breath.
"When I saw the window, I tried to stop the car. I stepped on the brake, but the car wouldn't slow down. Then I heard his voice. 'Ivy, stop! Stop! Don't you see, Ivy? Ivy, stop!' But I couldn't stop. I couldn't slow down. I pressed down the pedal over and over. I had no brakes!"
Ivy felt cold all over. Gregory's arms were around her, but his own skin was cold with sweat.
"Why were there no brakes?" she whispered. "Am I remembering, Gregory? What am I remembering? — Elizabeth Chandler

Power without control is worthless." Acheron's favorite saying. At least it was Ash's pet phrase any time Nick got behind the wheel and laid into the accelerator.
"Damn it, Nick! You've got to learn to go slow and not rush off into traffic at warp ten, especially not when it's heading straight for you!" Acheron's oth favorite rant where he was concerned. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I've always been attracted to cars, and driving is a completely measurable experience: if you qualify last on the grid, you're the slowest, and if you qualify first on the grid, you're the fastest. So no one can say you're slow if you're fast and no one can say you're fast if you're slow. — Eric Bana

Are you driving this slow because you have no idea where we're going, or because you're hoping we jump out of the car & put ourselves out of our misery? — Alexandra Bracken

I don't want to know
wreckage, dreck, and waste, but these are the materials
and so are the slow lift of the moon's belly.
over wreckage, dreck, and waste, wild treefrogs calling in
another season, light and music still pouring over
our fissured, cracked terrain.
If you had known me
once you'd still know me though in a different
light and life. This is no place you ever knew me.
But it would not surprise you
to find me here, walking in fog, the sweep of the great ocean
eluding me, even the curve of the bay, because as always
I fix on the land. I am stuck to earth ... these are not the roads
you knew me by. But the woman driving, walking, watching
for life and death, is the same. — Adrienne Rich

You just have to keep driving down the road. It's going to bend and curve and you'll speed up and slow down, but the road keeps going. — Ellen DeGeneres

Down it slow can you ,reverse in think you If .Wayne ,truth the from away you driving He's ... behind soul your leave He'll .snap you until ,band rubber a like out you stretch He'll .soul own your from away you drive He'll — Joe Hill

Her attention was on the first knight, pulling back his bowstring, taking aim. She paused, sensed the wind and revised her aim, then let the arrow fly.
I watched, as if in slow motion, as it shot across the space and split through the first knight's throat.
But Lia was not done. She was already on one knee, squinting and taking aim at the second as he turned, spotting us. She let the next arrow fly, and the arrow struck him in the chest, driving him backward over the parapet wall.
"Saints in heaven, I believe I'm in love," Luca growled, running past me, sword drawn. — Lisa Tawn Bergren

Imagine driving a car that isn't working well. When you step on the gas the car sometimes lurches forward and sometimes doesn't respond. When you blow the horn it sounds blaring. The brakes sometimes slow the car, but not always. The blinkers work occasionally, the steering is erratic, and the speedometer is inaccurate.
You are engaged in a constant struggle to keep the car on the road, and it is difficult to concentrate on anything else. — Stanley Greenspan

Driving a stick is like sex," he stated. "Every person you're with is different. They're like a code that needs to be broken." He turned and ran his hands up both sides of the steering wheel, slow and smooth. "What parts like to be touched." His sensual voice started stirring its way through my body. "Licked. Sucked. Bitten. — Penelope Douglas

It wasn't until I slowed the car and rolled down the windows that I realized I spend most of my days driving 'through' life without driving 'in' life. So, I've decided to walk because the pace is slower and the windows are always down. — Craig D. Lounsbrough

A scattering of pinpoint lights shows up in the blackness ahead. A town or village straddling the highway. The indicator on the speedometer begins to lose ground. The man glances in his mirror at the girl, a little anxiously as if this oncoming town were some kind of test to be met.
An illuminated road sign flashes by:
CAUTION!
MAIN STREET AHEAD - SLOW UP
The man nods grimly, as if agreeing with that first word. But not in the way it is meant.
The lights grow bigger, spread out on either side. Street lights peer out here and there among the trees. The highway suddenly sprouts a plank sidewalk on each side of it. Dark store-windows glide by.
With an instinctive gesture, the man dims his lights from blinding platinum to just a pale wash. A lunch-room window drifts by. ("Jane Brown's Body") — Cornell Woolrich

I've been driving in the city for years because, as a stand-up in N.Y.C., you can perform at more comedy clubs a night if you have a car. Getting from club to club by subway is too slow at night and too expensive by cab. So, many comics live far out from Manhattan and drive in every night. — Judah Friedlander

Time pressure is another driver of effort. As you carried out the Add-3 exercise, the rush was imposed in part by the metronome and in part by the load on memory. Like a juggler with several balls in the air, you cannot afford to slow down; the rate at which material decays in memory forces the pace, driving you to refresh and rehearse information before it is lost. Any task that requires you to keep several ideas in mind at the same time has the same hurried character. — Daniel Kahneman

The beautiful thing about driving was that it stole just enough of his attention - car parked on the side, maybe a cop, slow to speed limit, time to pass this sixteen-wheeler, turn signal, check rearview, crane neck to check blind spot and yes, okay, left lane. — John Green

It's probably similar to being in New York City and having a cab driver behind you and you're driving too slow. It's not the most pleasant thing. — Barry Sanders

BORN TO RUN In his book Racing the Antelope: What Animals Can Teach Us about Running and Life, biologist Bernd Heinrich describes the human species as an endurance predator. The genes that govern our bodies today evolved hundreds of thousands of years ago, when we were in constant motion, either foraging for food or chasing antelope for hours and days across the plains. Heinrich describes how, even though antelope are among the fastest mammals, our ancestors were able to hunt them down by driving them to exhaustion - keeping on their tails until they had no energy left to escape. Antelope are sprinters, but their metabolism doesn't allow them to go and go and go. Ours does. And we have a fairly balanced distribution of fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscle fibers, so even after ranging miles over the landscape we retain the metabolic capacity to sprint in short bursts to make the kill. — John J. Ratey

Sitting by the chimney corner as we grow old, the commonest things around us take on live meanings and hint at the difference between these driving times and the calm, slow moving days when we were young. — Rebecca Harding Davis

Sometimes I feel embarrassed because I'll tell the kids if someone is driving really slow or cutting in, I'll say "Bloody Asian drivers." But I feel justified in saying it because I'm Asian. — Pearl Tan

I definitely felt frightened [on Skyfall], but never in danger, because they were always so careful about everything. Some of the driving, particularly on that road around the sheer-drop cliff was actually done by stunt driver Ben Collin, who is otherwise known as The Stig from the TV show Pop Gear. He's a brilliant drive, nonetheless, it was terrifying to be careening along when a wrong turn would mean a thousand-foot drop and you're not in control and you want to slow the car down. — Naomie Harris

Driving through them, most places look about the same as most others. Walking around is how you get the sense of a place's character. Walking keeps you slow enough to notice the little things. — Michael G. Williams

All right," I said, waving the cup away and dabbing moisture very carefully from my lips. "I'm fine." I breathed shallowly, feeling my heart begin to slow down. "Well. So. At least now I know why you've been coming back from the Cherokee villages in such a state of-- off--" I felt an unhinged giggle rising, and bent over, moaning as I stifled it. "Oh, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. And here I thought it was thoughts of me, driving you mad with lust."
He snorted then himself, though mildly. He put down the cup, rose, and turned back the coverlet. Then he looked at me, and his eyes were clear, unguarded.
"Claire," he said, quite gently, "it was you. It's always been you, and it always will be. Get into bed, and put the candle out. As soon as I've fastened the shutters, smoored the hearth, and barred the door, I'll come and keep ye warm. — Diana Gabaldon

There's a gang of boys on bikes blocking the road ahead. They've got their hoods up, cigarettes shielded. The sky's a really strange colour and there's hardly anyone else about. I slow right down.
"What shall I do?"
"Reverse," Zoey says. "They're not going to move."
I wind down the window. "Oi!" I yell "Move your arses!"
They turn languid, shift lazily to the edge of the road and grin as I blow kisses at them.
Zoey looks stunned, "What's got into you?"
"Nothing- I just haven't learned reversing yet. — Jenny Downham

In a moment of crisis we don't act out of reasoned judgment but on our conditioned reflexes. We may be able to send men to the moon, but we'd better remember we're still closely related to Pavlov's dog. Think about driving a car: only the beginning driver thinks as he performs each action; the seasoned driver's body works kinesthetically ... A driver prevents an accident because of his conditioned reflexes; hands and feet respond more quickly than thought. I'm convinced the same thing is true in all other kinds of crisis, too. We react to our conditioning built up of every single decision we've made all our lives; who we have used as our mirrors, as our points of reference. If our slow and reasoned decisions are generally wise, those which have to be made quickly are apt to be wise, too. If our reasoned decisions are foolish, so will be those of the sudden situation. — Madeleine L'Engle

Can I have this dance?"
He held out his arms expectantly, waiting as she grappled with her feelings. She gazed up into his eyes. One heartbeat later she slipped into his arms and he pulled her close. Her palm against his was heady, sending all sorts of tingles coursing up and down her arm. His other hand, on the small of her back, kept her close. They were awkward at first, but kept at it. He hummed as they moved around in a circle, her skirt swishing against her legs and sometimes tangling between his. A slow burn started on her neck. When they finished he let her go and took a small step back.
"Charlie, I..."
"Stop talking, Nell."
His eyes closed and his lips covered hers. The kiss was gentle as he pulled her tighter against him, driving all thought from her mind. His hands moved down and bracketed her waist and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. — Caroline Fyffe

Damn, I love you," Dallie murmured. "My sweet little Fancy Pants, driving me half crazy, nagging me to death." He kissed her again, long and slow. "You're almost the best thing that ever happened to me." "Almost?" she murmured against his lips. "What's the best?" "Being born good-looking." And then he kissed her again. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Consider a white ninth-grade student taking American history in a predominantly middle-class town in Vermont. Her father tapes Sheetrock, earning an income that in slow construction seasons leaves the family quite poor. Her mother helps out by driving a school bus part-time, in addition to taking care of her two younger siblings. The girl lives with her family in a small house, a winterized former summer cabin, while most of her classmates live in large suburban homes. How is this girl to understand her poverty? Since history textbooks present the American past as four hundred years of progress and portray our society as a land of opportunity in which folks get what they deserve and deserve what they get, the failures of working-class Americans to transcend their class origin inevitably get laid at their own doorsteps. — James W. Loewen

They didn't want to take the crew-cab back to town, because they didn't want to sit where those guys had sat, so they rode the backhoe, as before, Westwood driving, Reacher and Chang face to face above his head, but this time on the dirt road. Which was slow, but more comfortable. They parked in the dealer's lot. The salesman came out. The backhoe was examined. It was a little stained by crushed wheat, and a little scratched on the sides. There was a little dirt caked on. And the front bucket had a dimple, where the bullet had struck. Not new anymore. Not exactly. Reacher gave the guy five grand from their leftover money. Easy come, easy go. Then — Lee Child

When somebody doesn't use common sense, I get frustrated. When I'm driving down the highway and someone is in the left-hand lane, and they're going very slow, sometimes I just go around them, and other times I'll be in the mood where I flash my lights and yell at them, like, 'What the heck are you doing? Get the heck out of my way!' — Billy Horschel

Nothing is so rewarding than the patience that you take to go over the ramps of life. They may slow you down, but you are an unstoppable hero. Keep driving! — Israelmore Ayivor

i took a night drive.
i needed to get away.
i needed to know
it's okay to go
and have no destination,
where time moves slow
or doesn't exist.
that life can be like this,
aimless wandering,
just breathing,
living,
driving forever underneath the stars. — AVA.

Everything started to move in slow motion. A vehicle was coming up the hill in the opposite direction, facing us but in its own lane. With vehicles parked on both sides of the road, this meant that there was just a narrow passage area for both vehicles to pass through. However, he had yet to reduce his speed, and now I knew which car he was going to hit. I was frozen stiff with fear in the front passenger seat, as I helplessly watched him slam into the back of a parked car. I was not wearing a seat belt, so upon impact my head crashed into the windshield. I was then slammed back into my seat, but with such force that everything went black. — Drexel Deal