Parks Quotes - Page 3

• Artists talk a lot about freedom. So, recalling the expression "free as a bird," Morton Feldman went to a park one day and spent some time watching our feathered friends. When he came back, he said, "You know? They're not free: they're fighting over bits of food.

  John Cage

  Fighting, Artist, Expression

  John Cage (2010). “Silence: Lectures and Writings”, p.165, Wesleyan University Press

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• A game: say something. Close your eyes and say something. Anything, a number, a name. Like this (she closes her eyes): Two, two what? Two women. What do they look like? Wearing black. Where are they? In a park. . . . And then, what are they doing? Try it, it's so easy, why don't you want to play? You know, that's how I talk to myself when I'm alone, I tell myself all kinds of stories. And not only silly stories: actually, I live this way altogether.

  Andre Breton

  Silly, Eye, Names

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• For they might be parted for hundreds of years, she and Peter; she never wrote a letter and his were dry sticks; but suddenly it would come over her, If he were with me now what would he say? --some days, some sights bringing him back to her calmly, without the old bitterness; which perhaps was the reward of having cared for people; they came back in the middle of St. James's Park on a fine morning--indeed they did.

  Virginia Woolf

  Morning, Sight, Years

  Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Collected Novels of Virginia Woolf - Volume II - Between the Acts, Mrs Dalloway, Orlando”, p.290, Read Books Ltd

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• The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, Are proud and implacable, passionate foes; It is always the same, wherever one goes. And the Pugs and the Poms, although most people say that they do not like fighting, will often display Every symptom of wanting to join in the fray. And they Bark bark bark bark bark bark Until you can hear them all over the park.

  T. S. Eliot

  Fighting, People, Pugs

  T. S. Eliot (2015). “The Poems of T. S. Eliot Volume II: Practical Cats and Further Verses”, p.18, Faber & Faber

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• I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.

  Charles Bukowski

  Coffee, Silly, Men

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• She's quite skinny, like me, but nice skinny. Roller-skate skinny. I watched her once from the window when she was crossing over Fifth Avenue to go to the park, and that's what she is, roller-skate skinny. You'd like her.

  J. D. Salinger

  Nice, Fifth Avenue, Like Her

  J. D. SALINGER (1951). “THE CATCHER IN THE RYE”

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• She began framing the words of her telegram into a senseless singsong; so that several park keepers looked at her with suspicion and were only brought to a favourable opinion of her sanity by noticing the pearl necklace which she wore.

  Virginia Woolf

  Singing, Necklaces, Pearls

  "Orlando (Annotated): A Biography".

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• I live in New York, and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go? I was wondering where the ducks went when the lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them away to a zoo or something. Or if they just flew away.

  J. D. Salinger

  Zoos, New York, Home

  J. D. SALINGER (1951). “THE CATCHER IN THE RYE”

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• Better watch out said a second voice from somewhere under the Beetle. Don't park those two kraut cars too close together; it's springtime, and they might decide to mate. then Charlie'll be stuck with a garage full of little orange safety cones

  Mercedes Lackey

  Two, Voice, Somewhere Under

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• I felt tired for the first time, and I thought of us lying down on some grassy patch of SeaWorld together, me on my back and she on her side with her arm draped against me, her head on my shoulder, facing me. Not doing anything--just lying there together beneath the sky, the night here so well lit that it drowns out the stars. And maybe I could feel her breathe against my neck, and maybe we could just stay there until morning and then the people would walk past us as they came into the park, and they would see us and think that we were tourists, too, and we could just disappear into them.

  John Green

  Morning, Stars, Real

  John Green (2013). “Paper Towns”, p.78, A&C Black

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• The padlock clicked open. A voice soundingoddly like South Parks's Cartman echoed through my quivering brain. Goddammit!

  Jennifer Rardin

  Voice, Brain, Padlocks

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• The ducks in St James's Park are so used to being fed bread by secret agents meeting clandestinely that they have developed their own Pavlovian reaction. Put a St James's Park duck in a laboratory cage and show it a picture of two men -- one usually wearing a coat with a fur collar, the other something sombre with a scarf -- and it'll look up expectantly.

  Neil Gaiman

  Men, Two, Ducks

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• There is nothing so American as our national parks. The scenery and the wildlife are native. The fundamental idea behind the parks is native. It is, in brief, that the country belongs to the people, that it is in process of making for the enrichment of the lives of all of us. The parks stand as the outward symbal of the great human principle.

  Franklin D. Roosevelt

  Country, Ideas, People

  Roosevelt, Franklin D. (1938). “Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: F.D. Roosevelt, 1934, Volume 3”, p.359, Best Books on

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• Why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways? Just to be silly!

  George Carlin

  Silly, Being Silly, Driveway

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• And I'm going to tell the truth: I didn't like that Sean Penn movie Into the Wild so much. Yes! I know it was critically acclaimed. I know it won all these awards! It's very sad that a boy is dead and all. But I thought the movie Enchanted, with the singing princess and the chipmunk and the people dancing in Central Park, was cuter. So there!

  Meg Cabot

  Princess, Boys, Awards

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• Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.

  Janet Fitch

  Dream, Drinking, Echoes

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• I'll sit in the park and feed the pigeons for a while.' We don't have pigeons.' Then I'll feed the pterodactyls.

  Dean Koontz

  Pigeons

  Dean Koontz (2014). “The Odd Thomas Series 7-Book Bundle: Odd Thomas, Forever Odd, Brother Odd, Odd Hours, Odd Apocalypse, Odd Interlude, Deeply Odd”, p.358, Bantam

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• I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park. Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.

  Sarah Dessen

  Hands, Missing, Pockets

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• Home. Home was BAMA, the Sprawl, the Boston-Atlanta Metropolitan Axis. Program a map to display frequency of data exchange, every thousand megabytes a single pixel on a very large screen. Manhattan and Atlanta burn solid white. Then they start to pulse, the rate of traffic threatening to overload your simulation. Your map is about to go nova. Cool it down. Up your scale. Each pixel a million megabytes. At a hundred million megabytes per second, you begin to make out certain blocks in midtown Manhattan, outlines of hundred-year-old industrial parks ringing the old core of Atlanta.

  William Gibson

  Block, Home, White

  William Gibson (2016). “Neuromancer”, p.35, Hachette UK

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• Listen," Mac interrupted, "you still have to knock it out of the park. But it's a degree-of-difficulty thing. You're doing a triple lutz and she's skating. You're the Sasha Cohen here.

  Zoey Dean

  Degrees, Skating, Macs

  Zoey Dean (2008). “Almost Famous, A Talent novel”, p.105, Penguin

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• He could feel V's eyes sharpen, the vampire's fierce intellect churning over the situation. Among the brothers, Vishous had the most raw brainpower, but he paid for the privilage. Man, Wrath sure had his own demons, and they were no walk in the park, but he wouldn't have wanted Vishous's cross to bear. Seeing what had yet to come was a terrible burden. -Wrath's thoughts

  J.R. Ward

  Brother, Eye, Men

  J.R. Ward (2005). “Dark Lover: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood”, p.125, Penguin

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• Nothing happened. And everything did. Your whole life you can be told something is wrong and so you believe it. Why should you question it? But then slowly seeds are planted inside of you, one by one, by a touch or a look or a day skateboarding in a park, and they start to burst out of old hulls shells and they start to sprout. And pretty soon there are so many of them. They are named Love and Trust and Kindness and Joy and Desire and Wonder and Spirit and Soulmate. They grow into a garden so dense and thick that it starts to invade your brain where the old things you were once told are dying.

  Francesca Lia Block

  Soulmate, Kindness, Believe

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• It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.

  Lucy Maud Montgomery

  Song, Sunset, Blow

  Lucy Maud Montgomery (2016). “L. M. MONTGOMERY – Premium Collection: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry & Autobiography (Including Anne Shirley Novels, Chronicles of Avonlea & The Story Girl Series): Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne's House of Dreams, Rainbow Valley, The Golden Road, Kilmeny of the Orchard, The Watchman, Songs of the Sea & many more”, p.595, e-artnow

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• Lula had Eminem cranked up. He was rapping about trailer park girls and how they go round the outside, and I was wondering what the heck that meant. I'm a white girl from Trenton. I don't know these things. I need a rap cheat sheet.

  Janet Evanovich

  Girl, Rap, White

  Janet Evanovich (2008). “To the Nines”, p.113, Macmillan

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• He scarcely saw his parents. When Christopher was small, he was terrified that he would meet Papa out walking in the Park one day and not recognize him.

  Diana Wynne Jones

  Parent, One Day, Papa

  Diana Wynne Jones (2012). “The Lives of Christopher Chant (The Chrestomanci Series, Book 4)”, p.5, HarperCollins UK

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