If you're in control, you're not going fast enough.
Straight roads are for fast cars, turns are for fast drivers.
I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.
I have a passion for fast cars. To drive them means pure joy to me.
Speed is a part of me. I think I was born with that, and nowadays a fast player, I need a fast car, too.
You got a fast car But is it fast enough so we can fly away We gotta make a decision We leave tonight or live and die this way.
I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol.
I love fast cars... and to go too fast in them.
Fast cars are my only vice.
It's the lifestyle of easy money, fast cars and supermodels that keep me going.
I've always liked fast cars and slow women.
I am adrenaline slammed into inertia: a fast car stuck in traffic.
I admit to wasting my life messing around with fast cars and motorcycles.
I remember, as a young man, wanting to experience a car going at those speeds and being visually nourished by something which I loved so much. And I wanted to race fast cars and have a good time.
I replaced the headlights in my car with strobe lights, so it looks like I'm the only one moving.
Fast cars like Porsches and Ferraris - they are things of beauty.
I like fast cars. And I like champions.
He liked cheap women, fast cars, late nights, and hard liquor, especially all together. In Jack's view, you are obliged to sin on Saturday night so you'd have something to atone for Sunday morning. Otherwise, you'd be putting the preacher out of business.
Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.
I love fast cars, loud guns and classic rock 'n' roll, but I'd never do any of it in flats. I love me a nice, big uncomfortable pair of heels and some big hair! Maybe it's a Southern thing, but I love dressing up. It's everything I can do not to leave the house in a goddamn prom dress every day.
See, what you're meant to do when you have a mid-life crisis is buy a fast car, aren't you? Well, I've always had fast cars. It's not that. It's the fear that you're past your best. It's the fear that the stuff you've done in the past is your best work.
This new world was a vicious, sleek world made of street lights and tight jeans, sharp smiles and fast cars. This was a city, edited. A city, pared down to its bare minimums, beautiful and abusive.
Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix & a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing... And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get.
People can be happy while they are going through great pain and adversity. There's no pleasure evident in their external lives yet they are content on the inside. And conversely, tons of people are surrounded by pleasure (fast cars, nice homes, great clothes) but there is no joy within. So choose to be happy.
A young man's passion, a jaded siren's last chance for love, a world gone mad, cheap thrills, fast cars, expensive wines, the triumph of victory, the overthrow of ontologically incipient hegemony, and gum! I have no idea if this book has any of them! But I liked the part about the bunny.
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