Syringe Needle Quotes & Sayings

Kathleen Norris, on the publication of her 78th book.
'All writing is difficult. The most you can hope for is a day when it goes reasonably easily. Plumbers don't get plumber's block, and doctors don't get doctor's block; why should writers be the only profession that gives a special name to the difficulty of working, and then expects sympathy for it? — Kathleen Norris

Maternal health remains a staggering challenge, particularly in the developing world. Globally, a woman dies from complications in childbirth every minute. — Jessica Capshaw

Leavitt appeared, looming over him, a syringe in his hand. "I thought we'd come to an understanding, son. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to do this." He knelt down and stuck the needle in Thomas's neck, compressed the syringe with his thumb. Before he passed out, Thomas looked at Teresa again, their eyes meeting for just a few precious seconds. The world had already started to blur when they dragged her away, but he clearly heard what she called out to him. "Someday we'll be bigger." - — James Dashner

I don't lack confidence. I don't sweat. I don't want to get too Zen on you, but I have to run my own race. — Brad Grey

It doesn't matter whether they [beloved ones] are on this planet or not on this planet anymore. Once something is bound by love, as long as that love exists, there is nothing that can separate us. There is the appearance of separation, but the heart, it always treasures and values that. — Richard Bach

Never undertake anything for which you wouldn't have the courage to ask the blessings of heaven. — Georg C. Lichtenberg

What would you rather have?"
"Cheeseburger and a small fry. Coke classic. Better yet, dope classic."
"Sure. I'll take a milkshake. What's the special flavor this week, chocolate Jack Daniels?"
"Strawberry scotch."
"Stick one of those paper umbrellas in mine."
"Shove a syringe in mine. And a plastic tombstone. RIP, baby. He was born a rock star. He died a junkie."
"Rock in peace."
[...]
"He wanted the world and lost his soul. [...] Sold it all for rock and roll. Lost his heart in a needle. Found his life in the grave. The road to hell is paved in marijuana leaves. Now he rocks in peace. — L.F. Blake

If a novel doesn't have well-developed three-dimensional principal characters, wouldn't it be a graphic novel without the graphics? — Michael Kroft

DEE DEE RAMONE: Sid Vicious followed me all over the place ... the worst time was one night when we had a big party ... They were serving beer and wine, and everybody was bombed. The whole bathroom was filled with puke
in the sink, in the toilets, on the floor. It was really disgusting ... All of a sudden I had a huge amount of speed in my hand. I started sniffing it like crazy. I was so high. And then I saw Sid and he said, 'Do you have anything to get high?' I said, 'Yeah, I got some speed'. So Sid pulled out a set of works and put a whole bunch of speed in the syringe and then stuck the needle in the toilet with all the puke and piss in there and loaded it. He didn't cook it up. He just shook it, stuck it in his arm, and got off. I just looked at him. I'd seen it all by then. He just looked at me kind of dazed and said, 'Man, where did you get this stuff?'. — Legs McNeil

Because the more you write the more you're aware of the weight of your tradition and the difficulties of the form and the more you have already done that you do not want to do again. — Tobias Wolff

It's judgement day. I'm nervous. My films are finally being released! — Sienna Miller

When everything on the board is clear it can be so difficult to conceal your thoughts from your opponent. — David Bronstein

Sherlock Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece, and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle and rolled back his left shirtcuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist, all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally, he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined armchair with a long sigh of satisfaction. — Arthur Conan Doyle