Corruption is like a ball of snow, once it's set a rolling it must increase.
Every one who repeats it adds something to the scandal. [The rolling snow-ball.]
I don't like roller coasters. I don't like bungee jumping. I don't like snow boarding really fast down the hill. I am not someone who is an adrenaline junkie.
All the best things and treasures of this world are not to be produced by each generation for itself; but we are all intended, not to carve our work in snow that will melt, but each and all of us to be continually rolling a great white gathering snow-ball, higher and higher, larger and larger, along the Alps of human power.
And there is such a thing as a decathlon high. It's like a rock rolling down hill, picking up momentum. You get better and better.
The ball of rumor and criticism, once it starts rolling, is difficult to stop.
Once I came up with the 'Stone Cold' thing, it was like a snowball rolling down a hill; it just kept getting larger and larger, and I wasn't afraid to push the envelope.
Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them?
As I came down the Highgate Hill, The Highgate Hill, the Highgate Hill, As I came down the Highgate Hill, I met the sun's bravado, And saw below me, fold on fold, Grey to pearl and pearl to gold, This London like a land of old, The land of Eldorado.
What?" she asked again. He pointed ahead of them. "See that?" "What, the snow?" "Beyond that." "More snow?" "Stop looking at the snow.
Sundance [festival] is all your Hollywood buds and buddies and rolling out and high-fiving and "Hell, yeah. Here comes the movie," and in Venice, it's very elegant, and respectful...It's decadence. It's such a fun way to formalize a movie that is for us a down-and-dirty, gritty movie. And to see it with the red carpet, and rolling up in a Maserati.
My goodness, that wee ball's gone so high there'll be snow on it when it comes down.
The summer lasted a long long time, like verse after verse of a ballad, but when it ended, it ended like a man falling dead in the street of heart trouble. One night, all in one night, severe winter came, a white horse of snow rolling over Bountiful, snorting and rolling in its meadows, its fields.
As the skipping rope hit the pavement, so did the ball. As the rope curved over the head of the jumping child, the child with the ball caught the ball. Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers
When you see the orbiter headed out the launch pad and then crawling up the hill and being hard down on the pad, it does something to you.
A ball will always come to rest halfway down a hill, unless there is sand or water at the bottom.