Shacks Shoes Quotes & Sayings

I like going to France, because no one knows who I am. — Tracey Ullman

Making and thinking about somebody is special... you go in the tracks of saying that you are horrible and not anymore special. — Deyth Banger

What each individual wills is obstructed by everyone else, and what emerges is something that no one willed. — Friedrich Engels

We have learned to see the world in gasps. — Margaret Atwood

A sense of the unknown has always lured mankind and the greatest of the unknowns of today is outer space. The terrors, the joys and the sense of accomplishment are epitomized in the space program. — William Shatner

The celebrity thing's completely crazy. I think I just have to move away or give it up altogether. I couldn't have kids in the situation I'm in now. But I could just do something else. That's probably what's going to happen. I made a decision very recently that I want a life instead. — Keira Knightley

His feet went banging down some stairs. He closed his eyes. They went through cinders and dirt, his heels gathering small windrows of trash. A dim world receded above his upturned toes, shapes of skewed shacks erupted bluely in the niggard lamplight. The rusting carcass of an automobile passed slowly on his right. Dim scenes pooling in the summer night, wan ink wash of junks tilting against a paper sky, rorschach boatmen poling mutely over a mooncobbled sea. He lay with his head on the moldy upholstery of an old car seat among packingcrates and broken shoes and suncrazed rubber toys in the dark. Something warm was running on his chest. He put up a hand. I am bleeding. Unto my death. — Cormac McCarthy

So writing became a way to get to act in things that I thought were meaningful, and hopefully write stronger roles for other women. — Brit Marling

Second, they [those who disagree with market efficiency] always claim they know a man, a bank, or a fund that does do better. Alas, anecdotes are not science. And once Wharton School dissertations seek to quantify the performers, these have a tendency to evaporate into the air - or, at least, into statistically insignificant t-statistics. — Paul Samuelson

Just watching the people on the streets of N.Y. is inspiring; there are so many styles and unique points of view. Fashion is very much inspired by the streets, has always been, and I'm sure it will continue to do so. — Charlotte Ronson

Louis could never shake the suspicion that some people, whether consciously or not, called the storm to themselves. — Paul Russell

Love for one another is built on the actions we take. Words that are said, are used for short comfort; but little do we know lies can be hidden in the riddle. Tread carefully through the puddle of roses for there, thorns await. — Ochir Napoleoni

He hoped she would not provide his family with any of her poems, which tended to use words like nipple. — Jean Thompson

What a web deceit made, its strands strangling the innocent and the guilty alike. — Karleen Koen

There is seldom a physical description of a character or scene in Pride and Prejudice and yet we feel that we have seen each of these characters and their intimate worlds; we feel we know them, and sense their surroundings. We can see Elizabeth's reaction to Darcy's denunciation of her beauty, Mrs. Bennet chattering at the dinner table or Elizabeth and Darcy walking in and out of the shadows of the Pemberley estate. The amazing thing is that all of this is created mainly through tone - different tones of voice, words that become haughty and naughty, soft, harsh, coaxing, insinuating, insensible, vain.
The sense of touch that is missing from Austen's novels is replaced by a tension, an erotic texture of sounds and silences. She manages to create a feeling of longing by setting characters who want each other at odds. — Azar Nafisi

I told her about the best and the worst. The slow and sleepy places where weekdays rolled past like weekends and Mondays didn't matter. Battered shacks perched on cliffs overlooking the endless, rumpled sea. Afternoons spent waiting on the docks, swinging my legs off a pier until boats rolled in with crates full of oysters and crayfish still gasping. Pulling fishhooks out of my feet because I never wore shoes, playing with other kids whose names I never knew. Those were the unforgettable summers. There were outback towns where you couldn't see the roads for red dust, grids of streets with wandering dogs and children who ran wild and swam naked in creeks. I remembered climbing ancient trees that had a heartbeat if you pressed your ear to them. Boomboom-boomboom. Dreamy nights sleeping by the campfire and waking up covered in fine ash, as if I'd slept through a nuclear holocaust. We were wanderers, always with our faces to the sun. — Vikki Wakefield