If you told me two years I would miss the greatest basketball game ever to hang out with Nathan Lane, I'd say, 'You're crazy!'
Which is more worthwhile earning: a large fortune or the esteem and gratitude of the nation? This question is prompted anew by the death of ex-Secretary of the Interior [Franklin K.] Lane. He remained in public service, doing most noble work, until his means became absolutely exhausted, and he died before having had the opportunity to reaccumulate any bank account.... He died leaving no estate whatsoever. Is what he did leave more to be desired, more to be coveted, than a fortune reaching into six or seven figures?
Uncorrupted man, with God's blessing, advances across the fields of the universe as though he were walking down a country lane.
Where weary folk toil, black with smoke, And hear but whistles scream, I went, all fresh from dawn and dew To carry them a dream. I went to bitter lanes and dark, Who once had known the sky, To carry them a dream-and found They had more dreams than I.
Don't celebrate yet, Ms. Lane. Don't believe anything is dead until you've burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.
Then why was his tongue in your mouth? Was he conducting a clinical test of your gag reflex?" He smiled, but not nicely. "How is your gag reflex, Ms. Lane? Are you a hair trigger?" Barrons likes to use sexual innuendo to try to shut me up. I think he expects the well-raised southern belle in me will think eew and back off. Sometimes, I do think eew, but I don't back off. "I'm a spitter, if that's what you're asking." I flashed him a too-sweet smile. "Didn't look that way to me. I think you're a swallower. His tongue was halfway to China and you were still taking it." "Jealous?
Nobody's going to win all the time. On the highway of life you can't always be in the fast lane.
It's time now to rent a car, roll down the windows and prepare for your first big thrill: the freeways. They're so much fun they should charge admission. Never fret about zigzagging back and forth through six lanes of traffic at high speeds; it erases jet lag in a split second. You're now heading toward Hollywood, like any normal tourist. Breathe in that smog and feel lucky that only in L.A. will you glimpse a green sun or a brown moon. Forget the propaganda you've heard about clean air; demand oxygen you can see in all its glorious discoloration.
There is water in every lane, so it is OK.
Can your player make a curl cut and score in the lane? If so, he is the cutter.
Forget about the fast lane. If you really want to fly, just harness your power to your passion
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane In proving foresight may be vain The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy!
Ladies & Gentelman, the man who tought William Kennedy Smith everything he knows about dating, Sweet Stan Lane!
Hip Hop will always have a lane of its own, for those that appreciate the culture.
When I saw a sign on the freeway that said, "Los Angeles 445 miles," I said to myself, "I've got to get out of this lane."
What I compare bike lanes to is swimming with the sharks. Sooner or later you're going to get bitten... Roads are built for buses, cars, and trucks, not for people on bikes. My heart bleeds for them when I hear someone gets killed, but it's their own fault at the end of the day.
I don't understand bus lanes. Why do poor people have to get to places quicker than I do?
When everything is coming your way, youre probably in the wrong lane.
Never change for the mainstream—stay in your lane, and if you’re talented and resilient enough the mainstream will come to you.
The next time The Oregonian runs a misleading headline saying that it's because of bike lanes that people aren't having their streets paved, I want all of you to march down Broadway and occupy The Oregonian!
Ah, the camel of Cairo! ... He went quietly and comfortably through the narrowest lanes and the densest crowds by the mere force of his personality. He was the most impressive living thing we saw in Egypt, not excepting two Pashas and a Bey. He was engaged with large philosophies, one could see that.
I have always thought of music as a highway with many lanes.
The freeway experience ... is the only secular communion Los Angeles has. Mere driving on the freeway is in no way the same as participating in it. Anyone can "drive" on the freeway, and many people with no vocation for it do, hesitating here and resisting there, losing the rhythm of the lane change, thinking about where they came from and where they are going. Actual participation requires total surrender, a concentration so intense as to seem a kind of narcosis, a rapture-of-the-freeway. The mind goes clean. The rhythm takes over.
The Supreme Court has ruled that anybody can be strip-searched for any kind of arrest. That's something to think about the next time you bring 12 items into a 10-item-or-less lane.
Skylark,Have you seen a valley green with SpringWhere my heart can go a-journeying,Over the shadows in the rainTo a blossom covered lane?And in your lonely flight,Haven't you heard the music in the night,Wonderful music,Faint as a will-o-the-wisp,Crazy as a loon,Sad as a gypsy serenading the moon.
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