A Quote by Sandra Day O'Connor

Slaying the dragon of delay is no sport for the short-winded. — © Sandra Day O'Connor
Slaying the dragon of delay is no sport for the short-winded.
Well I'm the Prince and I'm sort of slaying a dragon - which is something I've never done before, obviously.
My main pedal is the Ibanez Analog Delay, the AD9 or the AD80, whichever one it is. That's my go-to pedal for short delay. I don't think I could live without that pedal.
A poet can write about a man slaying a dragon, but not about a man pushing a button that releases a bomb.
Nearly all monster stories depend for their success on Jack killing the Giant, Beowulf or St. George slaying the Dragon, Harry Potter triumphing over the basilisk. That is their inner grammar, and the whole shape of the story leads towards it.
Chang Tzu tells us of a persevering man who after three laborious years mastered the art of dragon-slaying. For the rest of his days, he had not a single opportunity to test his skills.
Life is too short to occupy oneself with the slaying of the slain more than once.
I think that we should not delay for the sake of delay, but delay until questions are answered.
Reform is not for the short-winded. I'm committed to making sure the Senate is more than just a graveyard for good ideas.
Always be polite to a dragon. It's harder than it sounds. Dragon etiquette is incredibly complicated, and if you make a mistake, the dragon eats you.
I'm not so much a dragon slayer, more a dragon annoyer -- I'm a dragon irritater.
Now that you've reached everything, you must slay this illusion without slaying it - without becoming caught up in the illusion of slaying illusions.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
Give time and permit a short delay, impetuosity ruins everything.
I was a tremendous fan of the original Kenneth Grahame short story, 'The Reluctant Dragon.'
We have reached the age, those of us to whom fortune has assigned a post in life's struggle, when beaten and smashed and biffed by the lashing of the dragon's tail, we begin to appreciate that the old man was not such a fool after all. We saw our parents wrestling with the same dragon, and we thought, though we never spoke a thought aloud, 'Why doesn't he hit him on the head?' Alas, comrads, we know now. We have hit the dragon on the head and we have seen the dragon smile.
Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!