Still Room At Pitch Quotes & Sayings

In a pitch black room, you can affirm "let their be light" or you can light one candle. — Ken McCarthy

Imagine a pitch-black room with a single candle lit in the center," he said, his voice gone low. "The room is the world. You are the candle. — Kresley Cole

Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night. — Elin Hilderbrand

Most of us are pitch-perfect in detecting anger in the first word of a telephone call, recognize as we enter a room that we were the subject of the conversation, and quickly react to subtle signs that the driver of the car in the next lane is dangerous. Our everyday intuitive abilities are no less marvelous than the striking insights of an experienced firefighter or physician - only more common. — Daniel Kahneman

Nick was waiting for him.
Gabriel hesitated. He wished those text messages had come with some kind of sign, whether Nick was pissed or exasperated or just completely done with him. Hell, a freaking emoticon would have been helpful.
His own room sat pitch-dark at the opposite end of the hallway. A black hole. Gabriel eased around the creaky spot in the floor and slid past his twin's room. Once in his own, he flung his duffel bag onto the ground and shut the door, closing the dark around himself. He sighed and kicked his shoes into the well of blackness under the bed. Maybe Nick hadn't heard him. Maybe he thought he was still out in the car.
"You are so predictable."
Gabriel swore and fumbled for the light switch.
Nick was straddling his desk chair backward, his arms folded on the backrest.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gabriel snapped. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"
His twin shrugged. Because I knew you'd walk right past my room. — Brigid Kemmerer

When you're doing an animated series, you tend to pitch storyboards. You write a script and then you draw a comic version of that script and put it up on big boards, and then you pitch it to a big room of executives and writers. — Alex Hirsch

He has a fancy for always sitting in a pitch-dark room. He says it makes his thoughts brighter. — G.K. Chesterton

Basicly what I had to do was do a 7 minute board and pitch it to a room of big wigs from the network and based on that they determined if I would get a short or not. — Craig McCracken

The world around you may have shifted, seen you in a different light. But the Mona Lisa is a masterpiece whether it's in a pitch-black room, under a strobe light, or in the sun. — I. W. Gregorio

Eloquence, at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection, but addresses itself entirely to the desires and affections, captivating the willing hearers, and subduing their understanding. — David Hume

God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time. — Terry Pratchett

Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players,* to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time. Secondly, the Earth's a Libra. — Terry Pratchett

Everything went pitch-black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the room!"
"And you didn't see that coming?" said Harry, unable to help himself.
"No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch - " Professor Trelawny stopped and glared at him suspiciously. — J.K. Rowling

Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection; but addressing itself entirely to the fancy or the affections, captivates the willing hearers, and subdues their understanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom attains. But what a Tully or a Demosthenes could scarcely effect over a Roman or Athenian audience, every Capuchin, every itinerant or stationary teacher can perform over the generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by touching such gross and vulgar passions. — David Hume

Many people are afraid to shine, avoiding ruffling feathers or having someone feel inadequate. Imagine you are in a pitch black room with those around you. When you dim your light, neither you nor they can see. When you shine brightly, you all can see. So shine brightly for all to see! — Daniel Rechnitzer

Character is character and voice is voice, which translates nicely from writing novels to writing TV. But the process is different. You have a writer's room, people pitch you jokes and you collaborate. — Jennifer Weiner

When I go into a pitch room and I'm pitching something with a writing partner, everybody tends to look at the guy, even if I'm doing a lot of the talking. — Brit Marling

If I went in to pitch this show to a network, I would be laughed out of the room. — Pat Sajak

Some can just knock it out and some have to lock themselves in a room and get to a fever pitch of self-loathing before they turn in a first draft ... each writer's process is screwed up in its own way. — Warren Leight

He raised a hand in response and tossed the ear of corn into the wagon. Then he
returned to his fantasy, imagining himself running the livery instead of working there, making the decisions, placing orders, selecting new horses, agreeing to board others, and
hiring a boy to muck out the stalls and pitch hay.
In his daydream, he no longer lived in the back room. He came home at night to a small house he'd bought with his earnings. Inside, a woman waited for him. A wife. In his fantasy her hair was as golden as the ear of corn he tossed into the wagon and her
eyes as blue as the cloudless sky overhead. Catherine smiled at him and he could hear as well as see her say his name. "Jim! Welcome home. — Bonnie Dee

Everything you see comes from inside. People don't see it but inside the dressing room we laugh and joke a lot so it's not just for the cameras. It's the way things are off the pitch too. We are happy for each other, it is all natural. — Luis Suarez

How hard is hitting? You ever walk into a pitch-black room full of furniture that you've never been in before and try to walk through it without bumping into anything? Well, it's harder than that. — Ted Kluszewski

Our eyes adjusted; we gazed at what was in the room. And then I felt the floor pitch under me, as if we were suddenly at sea. George cleared his throat. I put out my hand to clench his arm.
Lockwood stood slightly behind us, waiting.
"Your parents?" I was the first to find my voice.
"Close," Anthony Lockwood said. "My sister. — Jonathan Stroud

Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire.
He's constantly drawing you in. And you're constantly stepping too close. And you know it's not good
that there is no good
that there's absolutely nothing that can ever come of it.
But you do it anyway.
And then ...
Well. Then you burn. — Rainbow Rowell

Laura decided to send a cable to Lady Honoria after all, on the chance that she might still reach her in Baden-Baden. But while she was planning what to say, she felt, all of a sudden, the room start to spin about her, dizzying her, so that she fell back across the bed and across the pillows wondering what was happening to her until everything went as pitch-black as night and she sank down and down and down into a dark, endless tunnel. — Rosemary Rogers

So, deep in the hood, there was a girl named "Cinderkeisha", and her mom had just married this man with two daughters named "Hoodfina" and "Ghettoesha". Cinderkeisha didn't like her stepsister Hoodfina and Ghettoesha, because they were mean to her and always wanted her to clean up their shit, but Cinderkeisha said "hell nawl; I don't do nothing for free." I left out of the room when he said the last part in a high pitch girly voice, as he rolled his neck making — Marqua'lla

Eloquence, when in its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection. — David Hume

As I rock down the hall I am flung from my path- snatched and grabbed. Before I can even utter a word, a large palm is covering my mouth. In less than five seconds I am inside a pitch black room, pushed face first into a cold metal door, and I hear the lock snick into place. A heavy weight presses at my back. I didn't even have time to panic. It was a well-timed attack.
My mind flashes to another time and place, another hand on my mouth. I breathe though the panic that tries to overcome me.
I allow my senses to put me at ease. He's just softly breathing near my ear. His body is relaxed. The way he holds me feels more playful than threatening.
"Let me guess ... the Boss," I say to the heavy weight at my back. My tone is a mix of amused annoyance. — Erica Chilson

The hearing test, which involved sitting in a quiet room listening to noises of various pitch played through headphones, confirmed the worst. I had no hearing in my left ear whatsoever. — David Hewson

There were once two sisters who were not afriad of the dark because the dark was full of the other's voice across the room, because even when the night was thick and starless they walked home together from the river seeing who could last the longest without turning on her flashlight, not afraid because sometimes in the pitch of night they'd lie on their backs in the middle of the path and look up until the stars came back and when they did, they'd reach their arms up to touch them and did. — Jandy Nelson

Suddenly the full long wail of a ship's horn surged through the open window and flooded the dim room - a cry of boundless, dark, demanding grief; pitch-black and glabrous as a whale's back and burdened with all the passions of the tides, the memory of voyages beyond counting, the joys, the humiliations: the sea was screaming. Full of the glitter and the frenzy of night, the horn thundered in, conveying from the distant offing, from the dead center of the sea, a thirst for the dark nectar in the little room. — Yukio Mishima

My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unknown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I exhaled into the promise of more to come, calling it to me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn't care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was. — Kim Harrison