Top 1200 Staring Out The Window Quotes & Sayings - Page 18

I don't want to be in a position that could make me vomit, like air travel. I've purloined airsick bags and stuffed them everywhere, just in case I ever feel the need to throw up. I haven't vomited since 1977, but I think about it all the time. I recognize that it's irrational, but I'd rather jump out of a window than vomit.

(Finland is a famously introverted nation. Finnish joke: How can you tell if a Finn likes you? He's staring at your shoes instead of his own.)

I'm fascinated by the First World War because it was supposed to be the war to end all wars, and it was the biggest conflagration that this particular planet had seen. There was a lot of talk about utopia and how it was possible, and then, because of these events that for one reason or another couldn't be stopped, the idea of utopia went out the window.

The dancers finished thier set, and one immediately strolled over to our table and straddled Ranger. Want a private party?" she asked. Not tonight," Ranger said. He handed her a twenty, and she left. What about the cat-feeding theory?" I asked him. Out the window.

The day was made for laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky till its brightness forced one to shut one's eyes and go to sleep.

I'm bored way too easily. I'm staring at screens half the day. I need to be overstimulated. And how will that express itself artistically?

When we play, we sense no limitations. In fact, when we are playing, we are usually unaware of ourselves. Self-observation goes out the window. We forget all those past lessons of life, forget our potential foolishness, forget ourselves. We immerse ourselves in the act of play. And we become free.

Without going out-of-doors, one can know all he needs to know. Without even looking out of his window, one can grasp the nature of everything. Without going beyond his own nature, one can achieve ultimate wisdom. Therefore, the intelligent man knows all he needs to know without going away, And sees all he needs to see without looking elsewhere, And does all he needs to do wihout undue exertion.

I like a good story and I also like staring at the sea-- do I have to choose between the two?

He thinks about his teacher in his literary class, he's staring at her legs.

The end of a gun looks very big and very back when it's staring you in the face.

From 1936 on, I have taken more falls than any other 20 comedians put together. From the time I was 21, I've taken them on everything from clay courts to cement to wood floors, coming off pianos, going out a two-story window, landing on Dean, falling into the rough. You do that and you're gonna have problems.

You are staring at me like you were going to eat me up.

The window is closing.

Tris.” I keep staring. “Tris.” I finally look at him. “I just don’t want to lose you.

An ordinary mirror is silvered at the back but the window of the night train has darkness behind the glass. My face and the faces of other travellers were now mirrored on this darkness in a succession of stillnesses. Consider this, said the darkness: any motion at any speed is a succession of stillnesses; any section through an action will show just such a plane of stillness as this dark window in which your seeking face is mirrored. And in each plane of stillness is the moment of clarity that makes you responsible for what you do.

I couldn't stop staring at the cave, back where Dimitri was, back where half of my soul was.

I thought they were staring at me because I was gay. But it was because I was on the telly.

Since I've been hired to contribute to the storyline of 'Doom 4' I can say what was always true anyway. I'm working. You see, for a writer, lots of stuff that doesn't look like working is actually working. Looking out of the window, for example. Balancing a pencil on the edge of the desk in order to find its exact fulcrum. Playing 'Doom.'

Psychedelics are illegal not because a loving government is concerned that you may jump out of a third story window. Psychedelics are illegal because they dissolve opinion structures and culturally laid down models of behaviour and information processing. They open you up to the possibility that everything you know is wrong.

She took off her wheel, took off her bell, took off her wig, said, how do I smell? I hot footed it barenaked out the window.

Brooklyn Heights itself is a window on the port. Here, where the perspective is fixed by the towers of Manhattan and the hills of New Jersey and Staten Island, the channels running between seem fingers of the world ocean. Here one can easily embrace the suggestion, which Whitman felt so easily, that the whole American world opens out from here, north and west.

I remember once when we were moving, driving across country, and it was raining so hard, the windshield wipers going fast and squeaking, and then: nothing. It stopped. I looked out the window ahead of me and it was clear. I looked out the back and there was the rain, still going. Nobody said anything, but there it was, a near miracle, a rain line, a way of seeing just where something starts, when usually you are just in the middle of it before you notice it. That's how it feels to me now, to not want to be like (that) anymore. I see the line.

Whenever you see riot footage on TV - you know, someone throwing a brick in Pakistan or somebody throwing a fiery piece of pooh through a Starbucks window up in Seattle - you ever see anybody throwing anything underhand? I think it just takes all the aggression out of the act.

Since my stroke, I have begun to see so many miracles all around me. I look out of the window in my room: verdant grass, silver-tipped oak leaves, tall palm trees gentle swaying as they reach to the sky, masses and masses of roses. All colors, so many shapes, exquisite fragrances.

If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on the wall, I think we'd see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.

They were lovebirds. They entertained each other endlessly with little gifts: sights worth seeing out the plane window, amusing or instructive bits from things they read, random recollections of times gone by. They were, I think, a flawless example of what Bokonon calls a duprass, which is a karass composed of only two persons.

When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.

I shoot in black and white, sometimes color, sometimes if it looks good I shoot out the window of the airplanes or whatever, anything that - sometimes I secretly take secret photos, shoot video of people on the plane if it's not too crowded. I don't know, whatever comes up.

What the issue here is, you get rid of all the conservative orthodoxy about capital gains, marginal tax rate, supply side economics, you just throw all that out the window, limited government and you just embrace the sheer and raw politics of resentment that have been bubbling the whole time and that`s what you get. You get Donald Trump.

No one wants to admit we're addicted to music. That's just not possible. No one's addicted to music and television and radio. We just need more of it, more channels, a larger screen, more volume. We can't bear to be without it, but no, nobody's addicted. We could turn it off anytime we wanted. I fit a window frame into a brick wall. With a little brush, the size for fingernail polish, I glue it. The window is the size of a fingernail. The glue smells like hair spray. The smell tastes like oranges and gasoline.

But a big paradigm shift is staring us in the face. If I left things to someone else despite having my own thoughts on it, I wouldn't be true to myself.

During the downtime on tour, I simply walk from room to room, staring into my computer.

We're understandably worried that staring at screens all day, and blogging about our breakfasts, is turning America into a nation of narcissists. But the opposite might be true.

I'm the whitest guy you will ever meet. The first time I saw an African-American, my dad had to tell me to stop staring.

Since I've been hired to contribute to the storyline of 'Doom 4' I can say what was always true anyway. I'm working. You see, for a writer, lots of stuff that doesn't look like working is actually working. Looking out of the window, for example. Balancing a pencil on the edge of the desk in order to find its exact fulcrum. Playing 'Doom.

Who says you cannot hold the moon in your hand? Tonight when the stars come out and the moon rises in the velvet sky, look outside your window, then raise your hand and position your fingers around the disk of light. There you go . . . That was easy!

Wendy: Why are you staring at me? Finn: Because you're standing in front of me.

... such speculation is like staring into the hot white sun. you know the sun is there but you can't see a thing.

I could jump out of this window feet first, which would be the safe way. But the way I'd do it would be to use a ramp, get a running start, dive through head first and maybe throw in a little roll at the end. Doing it that way makes it more spectacular.

I'll be the light in the window.

There are guys I admire. Like Jimmy Stewart and - a more modern example - Tom Hanks. They managed to do it and have a really high standard for their work, but at the same time they remained incredibly classy and well-regarded personally throughout the process, which I thought was rare and kind of cool. And I'm trying. I try. I haven't thrown any TVs out the hotel window yet.

You will remember when a bird crashed through the window and fell to the floor. You will remember, those of you who were there, how it jerked its wings before dying, and left a spot of blood on the floor after it was removed. But who among you was first to notice the negative bird it left in the window? Who first saw the shadow that the bird left behind, the shadow that drew blood from any finger that dared to trace it, the shadow that was better proof of the bird's existence than the bird ever was?

I just moved onto Queen West, after 20 years in Cabbagetown. The whole area around Trinity-Bellwoods is one of the juiciest in Toronto - all kinds of people to watch, dogs to pat, food to eat, galleries to check out. And the walk home from CBC delivers some of the most interesting window-shopping in town.

It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of outer space. The dark, lustrous eyes of the dog gazing out the tiny window. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could the dog possibly be looking at?

All my life I've felt on the outside wherever I am - out of the picture, the conversation, at a distance, as though I were the only one able to hear the sounds or words that other's can't, and deaf to the words that they hear. As if I'm outside the frame, on the other side of a huge, invisible window.

Some said Delana was sucessful as a mediator because both sides would agree just to make her stop staring at them.

I hate Zoom. Mainly because I hate staring at my own face.

Look to the Heavens, you can look to the skies. You can find redemption staring back into your eyes.

He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts? Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking. “Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely

You gonna keep staring at me, Great Acheron, or are you ready to chew me a new one?

The line is "So we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past." We've interpreted it as the meaning of us [when we] went against the current, against the grain and did what felt natural to us...regardless of what we thought we were supposed to be doing. We threw all of that out the window. We existed how we wanted to.

I am in the Aleph, the point at which everything is in the same place at the same time. I'm at a window, looking out at the world and its secret places, poetry lost in time and words left hanging in space...sentences that are perfectly understood, even when left unspoken. Feelings that simultaneously exalt and suffocate.

Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students. "Don’t let it worry you," said Ron. "It’s me. I’m extremely famous.

I stood staring, not as yet realising that this was death leaping from man to man in that little distant crowd.

Liadan," he said, staring intently at the ground. "Yes," I whispered. "Don't wed that man Eamonn. Tell him, if he takes you, he's a dead." --Bran

At what point does a fly give up trying to escape through a closed window – do its survival instincts keep it going until it is physically capable of no more, or does it eventually learn after one crash too many that there is no way out? At what point do you decide that enough is enough?

I spent most of my career operating businesses and fixing businesses, not staring at a Bloomberg screen.

You're free to join us, but only if you promise not to stare at the new kid." Miles laughs. "Staring is very rude. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?

Life shouldn't be about sitting around staring at frosted glass. Life should be lived and that's all there is to it.