Elbows Quotes - Page 7

• One day some people came to the master and asked: How can you be happy in a world of such impermanence, where you cannot protect your loved ones from harm, illness or death? The master held up a glass and said: Someone gave me this glass; It holds my water admirably and it glistens in the sunlight. I touch it and it rings! One day the wind may blow it off the shelf, or my elbow may knock it from the table. I know this glass is already broken, so I enjoy it - incredibly.

  Ajahn Chah

  Philosophy, Blow, Wind

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• Your peers are people in the business who are going to push you forward. So I think it's one of the reasons that Syracuse students come out truly ready for the industry because we've been rubbing elbows with people who are likeminded and just as 'pushy' or as ready to go as we are.

  Mike Tirico

  Thinking, People, Peers

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• Hana: What on Earth is a 'barbeque'? Hel: A primitive tribal ritual featuring paper plates, elbows, flying insects, encrusted meat, hush puppies, and beer. Hana: I daren't ask what a 'hush puppy' is. Hel: Don't.

  Trevanian

  Beer, Flying, Meat

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• Lady Glossip: Mr. Wooster, how would you support a wife? Bertie Wooster: Well, I suppose it depends on who's wife it was, a little gentle pressure beneath the elbow while crossing a busy street usually fits the bill.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Wife, Support, Littles

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• They stood brow to brow, brown to white, black to black, he supporting her elbows, she playing her limp light fingers over his collarbone, and how he "ladored,"he said, the dark aroma of her hair blending with crushed lily stalks, Turkish cigarettes and the lassitude that comes from "lass." "No, no, don't," she said, I must wash, quick-quick, Ada must wash; but for yet another immortal moment they stood embraced in the hushed avenue, enjoying as they had never enjoyed before, the "happy-forever" feeling at the end of never-ending fairy tales.

  Vladimir Mayakovsky

  Dark, Light, Hair

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• Bend down, bend down. Excess is the only ease, so bend. The sun is in the tree. Put your mouth on mine. Bend down beam & slash, for Dread is dreamed-up-scenes of what comes after death. Is being fled from what bends down in pain. The elbow bends in the brain, lifts the cup. The worst is yet to dream you up, so bend down the intrigue you dreamed. Flee the hayneedle in the brain's tree. Excess allures by leaps. Stars burn clean. Oriole bitches and gleams. Dread is the fear of being less forever. So bend. Bend down and kiss what you see.

  Stan Rice

  Dream, Stars, Pain

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• WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making, Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching, Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving. No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening, Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach dancing, Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing, Fulfilling our foray.

  Walt Whitman

  Beach, Drinking, Sleep

  Walt Whitman (2011). “Walt Whitman's Songs of Male Intimacy and Love: "Live Oak, with Moss" and "Calamus"”, p.94, University of Iowa Press

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• When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

  Harper Lee

  Brother, Broken, Arms

  Joyce Milton, Harper Lee (1984). “Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird”, p.30, Barron's Educational Series

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• My father was a joyous, joyous spirit, he really was. He was a hedonist, that was just - he enjoyed life, thrust up to the elbows with it. He was a terrible father. I don't know that he was parented that well.

  Carrie Fisher

  Father, Spirit, Terrible

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• We pulled the seeds out and scattered them on their flossy parachutes, leaving only the leathery brownish yellow tongue, soft as the inside of an elbow.

  Margaret Atwood

  Yellow, Leaving, Tongue

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• Now, to be properly enjoyed, a walking tour should be gone upon alone.... Freedom is of the essence, because you should be able to stop and go on and follow this way or that as the freak takes you.... There should be no cackle of voices at your elbow to jar on the meditative silence of the morning.

  Robert Louis Stevenson

  Morning, Essence, Voice

  Robert Louis Stevenson (2014). “Memories, Portraits, Essays and Records (Annotated Edition)”, p.669, Jazzybee Verlag

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• Temptation: the fiend at my elbow.

  William Shakespeare

  Temptation

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• Tell me, was I the sort of person who took your elbow when cars passed on the street, touched your cheek while you talked, combed your wet hair, stopped by the side of the road in the country to point out certain constellations, standing behind you so that you had the advantage of leaning and looking up?

  Nicole Krauss

  Country, Hair, Car

  Nicole Krauss (2003). “Man Walks Into a Room”, p.174, Anchor

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• Karen, her elbows folded on the deck-rail, wanted to share with someone the pleasure in being alone: this is the paradox of any happy solitude. She had never landed at Cork, so this hill and that hill beyond were as unexpected as pictures at which you say "Oh look!" Nobody was beside her to share the moment, which would have been imperfect with anyone else there.

  Elizabeth Bowen

  Solitude, Looks, Unexpected

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• I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.

  Sara Gruen

  Fall, Writing, Light

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• Hunger has always been more or less at my elbow when I played, but now I began to wake up at night to find hunger standing at my bedside, staring at my gauntly.

  Richard Wright

  Night, Wake Up, Hunger

  Richard Wright (2009). “Black Boy”, p.14, Harper Collins

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• After perhaps thirty meters, just as a soldier turned around, the girl was felled. Hands were clamped upon her from behind and the boy next door brought her down. He forced her knees to the road and suffered the penalty. He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down.

  Markus Zusak

  Girl, Boys, Doors

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• I should like to elbow aside the established pieties and raise my martini glass in salute to the mortal arts of pleasure.

  Bob Shacochis

  Art, Glasses, Pleasure

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• My ties and ballasts leave me - I travel - I sail - My elbows rest in the sea-gaps. I skirt the sierras. My palms cover continents - I am afoot with my vision.

  Walt Whitman

  Ties, Sea, Vision

  Walt Whitman (2011). “Leaves of Grass, 1860: The 150th Anniversary Facsimile Edition”, p.67, University of Iowa Press

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• Elbows are never put on the table while one is eating.

  Emily Post

  Tables, Eating

  EMILY POST (1950). “ETIQUETTE”

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• 'Outlaw Cook' was a revelation. Folks like Jeff Smith and Marcella Hazan got me interested in cooking, but John Thorne pushed me into the path that I follow to this day. This is the only cookbook I've ever read that understands how men really eat: over the sink, in the dark, greasy to the elbows.

  Alton Brown

  Dark, Men, Cooking

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• Native annalists may look sadly back from the future on that period when we had the atomic bomb and the Russians didn't. Or when the Russians had aquired (through connivance and treachery of Westerns with warped minds) the atomic bomb - and yet still didn't have any stockpile of the weapons. That was the era when we might have destroyed Russia completely and not even skinned our elbows doing it.

  Curtis LeMay

  Russia, Mind, Eras

  "Mission With LeMay: My Story" by Curtis E. LeMay, MacKinlay Kantor, (p. 560-561), 1965.

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• If the reader were so rash as to purchase any of Bela Bartok's compositions, he would find that they each and all consist of unmeaning bunches of notes, apparently representing the composer promenading the keyboard in his boots. Some can be played better with the elbows, others with the flat of the hand. None require fingers to perform or ears to listen too.

  Frederick Corder

  Hands, Musical, Boots

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• The bicycles go by in twos and threes -
  There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night,
  And there's the half-talk code of mysteries
  And the wink-and-elbow language of delight.
  Half-past eight and there is not a spot
  Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
  That might turn out a man or woman, not
  A footfall tapping secrecies of stone.
  I have what every poet hates in spite
  Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
  Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
  Of being king and government and nation.
  A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king
  Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.

  Patrick Kavanagh

  Kings, Hate, Past

  Patrick Kavanagh (2000). “Selected Poems”, Penguin Classics

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• The cycle hit the beach and spun out. Emma went into a rolling crouch as she flew free of it, keeping her elbows in, pushing the air hard out of her lungs. She turned her head as she hit the sand, slapping her palms down to roll herself forward, absorbing the impact of the fall through her arms and shoulders, her knees folding up into her chest. The stars wheeled crazily overhead as she spun, sucking in her breath as her body slowed its rolling. She came to a stop on her back, her hair and clothes full of sand and her ears full of the sound of the wildly crashing ocean.

  Cassandra Clare

  Beach, Stars, Fall

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