A Quote by Anna Quindlen
When I'm falling, my girlfriends are my soft landing.
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What's the point of hitting pads, landing 10,000 punches, and then landing punches that are soft as feathers in the fight? I hit hard.
Ignorantly is how we all fall in love; for it is a kind of fall. Closing our eyes, we leap from that cliff in hope of a soft landing. Nor is it always soft; but still, without that leap nobody comes to life.
If you can walk away from a landing, it's a good landing. If you use the airplane the next day, it's an outstanding landing.
We are really on track for a soft landing. There are no balloons popping.
I know what happens a the end of falling-landing.
If the US economic landing is soft there will be no consequences (for Europe).
I have spent my life falling. Not the kind that Tiny's talking about. He's talking about love. I'm talking about life. In my kind of falling, there's no landing. There's only hitting the ground. Hard. Dead, or wanting to be dead. So the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world. Because you feel you have no control over it. Because you know how it ends.
It was like falling down an elevator shaft and landing in a pool full of mermaids.
I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.
Girlfriends' code. What's discussed with girlfriends stays with girlfriends.
Maybe tonight you're scared of falling, and maybe there's somebody here or somewhere else you're thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you're gonna land, and i gotta tell you, friends, to stop thinking about the landing, because it's all about falling.
The leaves are falling, falling as from way off, as though far gardens withered in the skies; they are falling with denying gestures. And in the nights the heavy earth is falling from all the stars down into loneliness. We all are falling. This hand falls. And look at others: it is in them all. And yet there is one who holds this falling endlessly gently in his hands.
He reached up t0 grab one and came down with several, and they kept coming, washing over him, floating all around him. Never have tampon strings seemed so beautiful as they rolled up and down with the wind, landing on the ground and then twirling and floating up again, falling and rising and falling and rising.
Stop thinking about the landing, because it's all about falling.
Are you afraid of falling, baby? No, I’m afraid of landing. [He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.] Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?
I had forgotten: this is what it feels like to live in time. The lurching forward, the sensation of falling of a cliff into darkness, and then landing abruptly, surprised, confused, and then starting the whole process again in the next moment, doing that over and over again, falling into each instant of time and then climbing back up only to repeat the process.
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