Top 141 Hallway Quotes & Sayings - Page 2

He glanced furtively up and down the hallway. "Hodge too. Everyone wants to talk to me. Except you, I bet you don't want to talk to me," said Jace. "No," said Clary. "I want to eat. I'm starving.

Compassion is the belief that things might improve, and even when there's little, if anything, to sustain and engender that belief. It's the place from which I write, and the more troubled the circumstances, the deeper into the hearts and psyches of these characters I'm likely to go, opening every door in that dark hallway, and walking all the way in.

Now, Richard Pryor was unique. Many misunderstood his humor. He lit up the hallway, but they didn't understand his use of profanity. He didn't use it just to be using it; he used it in the context of his satire.

Parents have a right to expect that their efforts at home won't be undone each day in the school cafeteria or in the vending machine in the hallway. ...Parents have a right to expect that their kids will be served fresh, healthy food that meets high nutritional standards.

One recurring dream, many others have also: you go into a familiar house, discover a door or hallway, and find the house continues into hidden rooms. Sometimes a whole second house is there, a larger and unknown extension of the familiar dwelling.

There were so many Pittsburgh poets in my hallway that if, at that instant, a meteorite had come smashing through my roof, there would never have been another stanza written about rusting fathers and impotent steelworkers and the Bessemer convertor of love.

The TV business is uglier than most things. It is normally perceived as some kind of cruel and shallow money trench through the heart of the journalism industry, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs, for no good reason.

When I grew up, there was still black and white TV. I was told to never get out of bed once you're put to bed. I'd sneak down the hallway, try to avoid the creaking floor boards and go in and watch the 'Midnight Movie.'

If you walk into the front hallway of the CIA, you will see, on your left, a statue of William 'Wild Bill' Donovan. Bill Donovan was the person who created the OSS, the Office of Strategic Services, which was America's spy agency during World War II and then kind of morphed into what's now the CIA.

Also, in my bedroom, nobody minded if I kept the hall door half-open, allowing in enough light that I was not scared of the dark, and, just as important, allowing me to read secretly, after my bedtime, using the dim hallway light to read by, if I needed to. I always needed to.

The 9th chamber, leave you trapped inside my hallway You try to flee but you got smoked up by the doorway (blaow! blaow! blaow!) No question, I send your ass back, right to the essence Your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you restin

I'm not at the point where I'd feel safe in a house alone. I would be really scared. I'm the kind of person that when I get up to go use the bathroom I have this big long hallway, and I just know someone's going to jump out and get me.

One can become quite used to the specter of the eternal Footman, like some lethal old bore lurking in the hallway at the end of the evening, hoping for the chance to have a word. And I don't so much object to his holding my coat in that marked manner, as if mutely reminding me that it's time to be on my way. No, it's the snickering that gets me down.

You didn’t really hold back on Braga so Pickering could kill him, did you?” Royce asked after the two were left alone in the hallway. “Of course not. I held off because it’s death for a commoner to kill a noble.” “That’s what I thought.” Royce sounded relieved. “For a minute, I wondered if you’d gone from jumping on the good-deed wagon to leading the whole wagon train.

I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in the hallway in wheelchairs makes me long for death. Particularly when I rememver that I'm one of the ancient dusty people, filed away like some worthless tchotchke.

Most cops are not looking for understanding. They work in a world filled with a sense - real or imagined - of danger lurking around each corner and every hallway. Most cops are merely looking for respect.

I created 'Captain Underpants' when I was in the second grade. I was constantly getting in trouble for being the class clown, so my teacher sent me out into the hallway to punish me. It was there in the hall that I began drawing 'Captain Underpants'. Soon I was making my own comic books about him.

I thought, 'Well, I'll amuse people a little bit.' During lunch hour, while everyone was off to the faculty club and this and that, I set up a bunch of bases down the hallway of the school and I put all of the portraits I had completed... and I waited for the reaction.... that's how I got started again, doing portraits of people around me.

The dream world of sleep and the dream world of music are not far apart. I often catch glimpses of one as I pass through a door to the other, like encountering a neighbor in the hallway going into the apartment next to one’s own. In the recording studio, I would often lie down to nap and wake up with harmony parts fully formed in my mind, ready to be recorded. I think of music as dreaming in sound.

My father was in the kitchen putting a new washer in the kitchen faucet. He looked relieved to see Morelli standing in the hallway. He'd probably prefer I bring home someone useful, like a butcher or a car mechanic, but I guess cops are a step up from undertakers.

When I was young, I had this feeling that there was this handbook that I had never gotten that explained how to be, how to laugh, what to wear, how to stand by yourself in the hallway. Everyone looked so natural - like they all practiced and knew exactly what to do - even the way they pushed their hair out of their face.

Such a thing as the child left alone to die in the hallway was unknown on the marsh. But here, in the dawn, was mortality itself. In the city were places to fall from which one could never emerge -- dark dreams and slow death, the death of children, suffering without grace or redemption, ultimate and eternal loss. The memory of the child stayed with him. But that was not to be the end of it, for reality went around in a twisting ring. Even the irredeemable would be redeemed, and there was a balance for everything. There had to be.

You know how in every heist movie they get past the security cameras that show the hallway leading to the diamonds by jamming the screens with a fake signal of everything looking safe and quiet? Usually a guard coughs so they don't notice the blip from switching to the bogus feed.

I always thought it would be a great thing to do an art carwash. So you can actually go and get your car washed, but while you're sitting around waiting you can walk in that hallway where you look at the cars going through the window, and that could be changing exhibitions.

The house burned an hour before midnight on the last day of April. The wild, distant ringing of the fire bells woke George Hazard. He stumbled through the dark hallway, then upstairs to the mansion tower, and stepped outside into the narrow balcony.

I have never understood, for example, how come a child can climb up on the roof, scale the TV antenna, and rescue the cat ... yet cannot walk down the hallway without grabbing both walls with his grubby hands for balance.

The hallway was lined with numbered doors, odd numbers on one side and even numbers on the other, and large ornamental vases, too large to hold flowers and too small to hold spies.

I felt vulnerable and very much between friends. I remember walking down the hallway and thinking I had no way of knowing what was coming, literally. This wasn't because I had some horrific bullying story, but because of a steady drip of negativity.

So I take it you guys are going to stay inside my flat and not out in the hallway like my father’s guards? (Kiara) You know that’s the most pathetic way to guard someone. (In a falsetto he added.) Please protect my life by being outside so that when they come in and kill me you can’t hear it. (Syn)

I can smell the smoke now. I can see tendrils of it comin' up between the cracks in the shrikin' floorboards. There she is, calmly taking down the framed examples of fine embroideries, samplers, and needlework from teh hallway wall and tucking them under her arm. "Mistress! Come on! You've got to leave!" She calmly turns and faces me. "Why?" she asks. "The British are coming?" "Only one, Mistress," I say

At the New York Harvard Club, they've moved the memorial for those who died in World Wars I and II up to an obscure little hallway; they used to be in the main hall, in the most prominent location. The sacrifice of those young people I always found so stunning and so admirable.

Love is when there is no denying "it"... that magical, elusive feeling that really seizes us and takes us from the inside. To me, it's in the corners of my niece's little smile, or when I see my mother is calling me from Australia, or when I hear my husband's footsteps in our hallway. It's in the mundane and in the epic.

When I was 16, I had a job on the cleaning crew at a local hospital. I wore a pink uniform and cleaned bathrooms and buffed the hallway linoleum. Oddly, I don't recall hating the job. I recall getting choked up at the end of the summer when I went to turn in my uniform and say goodbye to the ladies.

And then something truly bizarre happened. I could feel his touch through our eyes. I couldn't look away from him. The girl in front of him seemed to disappear, and all there was in the hallway was him and the sweet, beautiful smell of his blood.

Who snitched?" "We have people monitoring police radio frequencies. They gave Jim a heads-up in case our security had to storm PAD offices and bust you out of there. I found out when I saw Jim walking down the hallway snickering to himself.

On the first one, X-Men: First Class, it would be James McAvoy, Nicholas Hoult and I. I'd basically inhale, there would be a red flashing light, and then the stuff at the end of the hallway would just blow up. It really felt like I could do those things, but, sadly, I can't. It was a lot of fun; I got to play a superhero that I was familiar with since I was a kid. It doesn't really get much better than that.

The first stage I preformed on were the stairs to the hallway in the living room. There was a really nice platform, and when people were sitting in the living room, it was kind of an elevated platform and we would put on shows and skits.

I grew up with my little brother, and we were raised by my grandmother. I was an insider for real. I stayed in the house a lot, writing songs or playing video games, watching TV, or chilling with my girlfriend. It wasn't until 9th grade that I got into music. This guy in school heard me singing around the hallway to girls and stuff.

Sometimes, to keep things exciting, I decorate my house as if I owned a child. I'll toss a tiny pair of shoes in the hallway or lean small wooden crutches in what I refer to as 'the baby's room,' which is actually a tiny space where I make things. I continue to call it the baby's room because it confuses people and it's creepy.

It's hard to mix with a crowd when you're walking down the hallway and everybody else is a foot shorter. I remember hanging out with my friends, like at the mall, and thinking people were staring at me and talking about me. It made me turn inside myself. I became more shy and quiet.

It`s hard to think of John McCain without thinking about what a ball of energy he is. I remember when I was working in the Senate, he just, enters every room and went down every hallway at the highest speed possible and just was always that way. I think people saw that when he was running for president, that that`s the way he handled everything. It`s just this constant never let up attitude.

In high school I went to the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts. And this is like Fame. It's like that sort of prototypical, dancers in the hallway, theater students, musical students, art geeks. And it was a kindergarten in the truest sense of the world: a children's garden where I was able to sort of really come into myself as an artist, as a person, sexuality issues - like, all of this became something where there was a firming-up and a knowing that went on.

I remember, my freshman year of college, sitting in my TV room at the end of my dorm hallway with one other girl watching the premiere of 'Beverly Hills, 90210.' And then, a year later, walking into a room packed with college students watching '90210,' and I thought, 'I wonder what it must be like to be part of a phenomenon like that.'

The walls of our upstairs hallway testify that we once had photogenic children. There are rows of framed pictures that show them playing baseball, basketball, holding a toad, and smiling in the sunlight at their eager parents. Everything is orderly and bright.

Don't open that door," she said. "The hallway is full of difficult dreams." And I asked her: "How do you know?" And she told me: "Because I was there a moment ago and I had to come back when I discovered I was sleeping on my heart.

I spent 18 months with the furniture parked in front of the radiators, cooking as quickly as I possibly could to use the least amount of gas and electricity. I unscrewed the lightbulbs in the hallway, unplugged everything at the wall so not even the LCD display was blinking away on the oven.

I was so paranoid that my friends wouldn't like me. I went to a very small school where the consequences of bullying were very real. You couldn't just push some nameless face in the hallway because everybody knew each other's families, so there wasn't the obligatory psychotic jackass that tortured everybody.

He held up a finger and went to the hallway, where he tripped over Blotchy, and then over the two monster cats madly pursuing Blotchy. Swearing, he leaned over the landing and called to the guard that unless the kingdom fell to war or his daughter was dying, he better not be interrupted until further notice.

It wasn't until 9th grade that I got into music. This guy in school heard me singing around the hallway to girls and stuff. The girls liked it. One day, he was like, 'Come to my crib. I got a studio. Come and record a hook for me.' I recorded the hook on the 'Lovers & Friends' beat - Usher.

It started in middle school. Once, a group of girls locked me in the janitor's closet. Another time, a girl spilled chocolate milk down a dress I made. Girls would try to trip me in the hallway.

Coming upon a space that sounds unique and incredible is just the best feeling. Sometimes, it's under a bridge or down a stairwell or hallway. Sometimes, it's pitch-black or incredibly warm or in full daylight on a rooftop. I did a shoot recently for a clothing line, Somedays Lovin. I got to stand on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and play my guitar basically all day. It felt endlessly powerful.

It’s about misunderstandings between people and places, being disconnected and looking for moments of connection. There are so many moments in life when people don’t say what they mean, when they are just missing each other, waiting to run into each other in a hallway.

Standing in front of our hallway mirror, I am practising a few poses - one leg artfully bent, the opposite shoulder up - when the man of the house strides in and decides to share: a) I look like I have dislocated my shoulder and b) Has anyone ever told me I strongly resemble Tom Cruise?

The first thing you see in my hallway is a large 18th-century bust of Milton, who stares at me as I watch TV and reminds me of the grave and committed role of the poet. Although he was blind, Milton had one of the most unswerving gazes of all English poets.

Everyone loved my father. He was so nice that people took advantage of him. We were lower middle class. I slept in the hallway on a cot that rolled away during the day, and my younger brother and sister slept in my parents' room. My goal as a kid was to someday have my own room and to own a car - and I wanted to be able to take care of my parents.

Jacián!" She yells again, and then she says something in Spanish. A moment later he comes down the hallway. "I'm going to tell Grandfather you said that," he says. "What do you want?

On the simplest level, telecommuting makes it harder for people to have the kinds of informal interactions that are crucial to the way knowledge moves through an organization. The role that hallway chat plays in driving new ideas has become a cliche of business writing, but that doesn't make it less true.

When the oldest Chatwin, melancholy Martin, opens the cabinet of the grandfather clock that stands in a dark, narrow back hallway in his aunt’s house and slip through into Fillory...it’s like he’s opening the covers of a book, but a book that did what books always promised to do and never ac tually quite did: get you out, really out, of where you were and into something better.

I would see b-boys breakdancing in the hallway, I thought it was cool. I started practicing in my living room, then started battling, and then I joined a crew, and we started getting into competitions. In fact, we still battle - for fun now.

For every grand and finely worded statement by the CEO, the brand is also defined by derisory consumer comments overheard in a hallway, or in a chat room on the Internet. Brands are sponges for content, for images, for fleeting feelings. They become psychological concepts held in the minds of the public, where they may stay forever. As such you can’t entirely control a brand. At best you can only guide and influence it.