Load Quotes - Page 4

• Figures dark beneath their loads pass down the far bank of the river, rendered immortal by the streak of sunset upon their shoulders

  Peter Matthiessen

  Sunset, Dark, Rivers

  Peter Matthiessen (2014). “The Snow Leopard”, p.283, Random House

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• We used to have a dog named Snoopy, you know, a real live dog. I suppose people who love Snoopy won't like it, but we gave him away. He fought with other dogs, so we traded him in for a load of gravel.

  Charles M. Schulz

  Dog, Real, People

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• I won't put in a load of laundry, because the machine is too loud and would drown out other, more significant noises - namely, the shuffling footsteps of the living dead.

  David Sedaris

  Machines, Noise, Laundry

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• What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

  Langston Hughes

  Running, Dream, Sweet

  "Harlem" l. 1 (1951)

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• As I say the words, I realize how true they are. And maybe that's the trick to getting through it, through life: realizing that everybody, including ourselves, is lugging around some kind of screwed-up baggage. Maybe we are put here to help each other carry the loads.

  Lisa Ann Sandell

  Life, Baggage, Helping

  Lisa Ann Sandell (2011). “A Map of the Known World”, p.232, Scholastic Inc.

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• It occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we think of as fragile is how tough they truly are. There were tricks we did with eggs, as children, to show how they were, in reality, tiny load-bearing marble halls; while the beat of the wings of a butterfly in the right place, we are told, can create a hurricane across an ocean. Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkable difficult to kill.

  Neil Gaiman

  Dream, Children, Ocean

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• Loads of children read books about dinosaurs, underwater monsters, dragons, witches, aliens, and robots. Essentially, the people who read SF, fantasy and horror haven't grown out of enjoying the strange and weird.

  China Mieville

  Children, Book, Dragons

  “This much I know” by Tom Templeton, www.theguardian.com. November 28, 2004.

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• Whatever is the lot of humankind I want to taste within my deepest self. I want to seize the highest and the lowest, to load its woe and bliss upon my breast, and thus expand my single self titanically and in the end go down with all the rest.

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Self, Want, Woe

  Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1985). “Faust/Bilingual”, Bantam Classics

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• People, he thought, were as hungry for a sight of joy as he had always been--for a moment's relief from that gray load of suffering which seemed so inexplicable and unnecessary. He had never been able to understand why men should be unhappy.

  Ayn Rand

  Men, Sight, People

  Ayn Rand (2005). “Atlas Shrugged”, p.42, Penguin

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• When we put things off until some future-probably mythical-Laterland, we drag the past into the future. The burden of yesterday's incompletions is a heavy load to carry. Don't carry it.

  Peter McWilliams

  Past, Yesterday, Burden

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• Have you got any soul?" a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I've got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a better balance, but I can't seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn't be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues.

  Nick Hornby

  Soul, Balance, Wish

  Nick Hornby (1996). “High Fidelity”, p.86, Penguin

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• Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?" "Only once" said Hermione stung. "I got you loads more then you got me—" "I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times—" "Well if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand—

  J. K. Rowling

  Hands, Feet, Three

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• The king of the jailhouse and the queen of the road think sharing the burden will lighten the load.

  Aimee Mann

  Kings, Queens, Thinking

  Song: King Of The Jailhouse, Album: The Forgotten Arm, 2005

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• That meant I could come back whenever I could manage it. And she was telling me to go. She knew the decision was too big a load for me to carry by myself. She knew me through and through. She had eyes in the back of her heart.

  Richard Peck

  Heart, Eye, Decision

  Richard Peck (2002). “A Year Down Yonder”, p.128, Penguin

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• GATHERING LEAVES Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer Running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face. I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use. But a crop is a crop, And who's to say where The harvest shall stop?

  Robert Frost

  Running, Light, Color

  Robert Frost (1963). “Selected poems”

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• Give me love Give me love Give me peace on earth Give me light Give me life Keep me free from birth Give me hope Help me cope, with this heavy load Trying to, touch and reach you with, heart and soul

  George Harrison

  Love, Heart, Light

  Song: Give Me Love

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• Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

  John Keats

  Friendship, Summer, Running

  John Keats, Helen Vendler (1990). “Poetry Manuscripts at Harvard”, p.222, Harvard University Press

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• Sooner or later, fate puts us together with all the people, one by one, who show us what we could, and shouldn’t, let ourselves become. Sooner or later we meet the drunkard, the waster, the betrayer, the ruthless mind, and the hate-filled heart. But fate loads the dice, of course, because we usually find ourselves loving or pitying almost all of those people. And it’s impossible to despise someone you honestly pity, and to shun someone you truly love.

  Gregory David Roberts

  Hate, Heart, Fate

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• Someday you'll remember what I said and you'll thank me for it." Francie wished adults would stop telling her that. Already the load of thanks in the future was weighing her down. She figured she'd have to spend the best years of her womanhood hunting up people to tell them that they were right and to thank them.

  Betty Smith

  Hunting, Years, People

  BETTY SMITH (1943). “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”

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• What's prayer? It's shooting shafts into the dark. What mark they strike, if any, who's to say? It's reaching for a hand you cannot touch. The silence is so fathomless that prayers like plummets vanish into the sea. You beg. You whimper. You load God down with empty praise. You tell him sins that he already knows full well. You seek to change his changeless will. Yet Godric prays the way he breathes, for else his heart would wither in his breast. Prayer is the wind that fills his sail. Else drift with witless tides. And sometimes, by God's grace, a prayer is heard.

  Frederick Buechner

  Prayer, Heart, Dark

  FaceBook post by Frederick Buechner from Mar 12, 2017

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• He has to wair for another load of laundry to get done. So I wait with him. I lean back against the couch, sitting really low the way I like. I scrunch over and put my head on his shoulder. We sit like that for a long time. Watching other people's laundry dry. <3

  Susane Colasanti

  Long, People, Waiting

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• At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, it's usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we've chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them. The people that are still with you at the end of the day, those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.

  Shonda Rhimes

  Hurt, Distance, Space

  "Grey's Anatomy". TV Series, m.imdb.com.

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• December stillness, teach me through your trees That loom along the west, one with the land, The veiled evangel of your mysteries. While nightfall, sad and spacious, on the down Deepens, and dusk embues me where I stand, With grave diminishings of green and brown, Speak, roofless Nature, your instinctive words; And let me learn your secret from the sky, Following a flock of steadfast-journeying birds In lone remote migration beating by. December stillness, crossed by twilight roads, Teach me to travel far and bear my loads.

  Siegfried Sassoon

  Twilight, Land, Sky

  Siegfried Sassoon (1949). “Collected Poems”

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• You have been professing yourself reluctant to throw off your load of illusion because truth was uncertain. Well, it is certain now, yet the burden still weighs you down, while other people are given wings on freer shoulders, people who have not worn themselves out with research, nor spent a decade and more reflecting on these questions.

  Saint Augustine

  Wings, People, Research

  Saint Augustine (1997). “The Confessions”, p.199

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• Here she was, a women who could bolt-load a crossbow in under a second, put half a dozen long arrows in the air in fewer than five, blade a target dead through the sweet spot at six meters, on the run, on an off day; and yet knitting a pair of baby booties seemed completely beyond her power.

  Justin Cronin

  Running, Baby, Sweet

  Justin Cronin (2010). “The Passage: A Novel (Book One of The Passage Trilogy)”, p.436, Ballantine Books

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