I don't even know where mine [Oscar award] is. My mother has hidden it because everybody who comes in wants to take a photograph of it. So what she's done is she put it inside a suitcase somewhere.
Within 2 years Im predicting...that youre going to see a suitcase nuke in this country. Youre probably going to see a release in a few years of something communicable. & I am predicting that you will see a lot of conventional bombings...in the next year or so.
I've always wanted to have a suitcase handcuffed to my wrist. That's not a full joke there! It's filler.
To me, the most worrisome part of traveling comes before any of the traveling actually occurs: the suitcase-packing process. It's a challenging and anxiety-filled process - I am caught between wanting my suitcase to be light and worrying I am going to need every single item in my bedroom.
I've been living out of a suitcase for over a decade.
I came up to New York at 20 with a suitcase and a ceramic tiger. That was my one piece of furniture and I wanted to save it.
If woman wants to have kids and work a little less she has a big disadvantage compared to a male colleague who has a stay-at-home wife packing his suitcases.
I am a reader, a flashlight-under-the-covers, carries-a-book-everywhere-I-go, don't-look-at-my-Amazon-bill. I choose purses based on whether I can cram a paperback into them, and my books are the first items I pack into a suitcase. I am the person who family and friends call when they need a book recommendation or cannot remember who wrote Heidi. My identity as a person is so entwined with my love of reading and books that I cannot separate the two.
I'm staying in a lovely hotel, dressing robe behind the door, lovely fluffy sheets - took me a half an hour getting my suitcase closed.
The aging process is fascinating because it doesn't disturb me, because this is what it is supposed to be like. But I'll tell you what does - it's the lack of strength - you can't hold up suitcases and do it yourself. Loss of physical strength.
Once you start carrying your own suitcase, paying your own bills, running your own show, you've done something to yourself that makes you one of those women men like to call 'a pal' and 'a good sport,' the kind of woman they tell their troubles to. But you've cut yourself off from the orchids and the diamond bracelets, except those you buy yourself.
In my personal life I've made a lot of compromises. I don't live comfortably. I've lived out of a suitcase for the last 15 years. I have lived without a dime to my name, for a very long time.
Skins tanned to the consistency of well-traveled alligator suitcases.
I love Tumi because of the lifetime guarantee. And their luggage is just so solid. Looks good. Versatile. My carry-on bag is Tumi. My hanging bag is Tumi. My big suitcase is Tumi. All black. Love it.
Touring is very grueling. It's very taxing on the body and living out of your suitcase, going from city to city, night after night. It's a tough job.
After everything he'd built, planned, fought for, fretted over, dreamed of, this was the summation of his life; one disappointing son and two suitcases.
With my sister perched on my arm, I walked to the elevator. A business man with a rolling suitcase was waiting by the doors. His eyes widened as he saw me. I must’ve looked pretty strange—a tall black kid in dirty, ragged Egyptian clothes, with a weird box tucked under one arm and a bird of prey perched on the other. “How’s it going?” I said. “I’ll take the stairs.” He hurried off.
He set the suitcases in the back then tossed her the keys. "You drive." She repressed a smile as she climbed behind the wheel. "With each passing day, your reasons for wanting a wife become clearer.
Slippery slope. I carry a spare shirt, pretty soon I'm carrying spare pants. Then I'd need a suitcase. Next thing I know, I've got a house and a car and a savings plan and I'm filling out all kinds of forms.
He was carrying a suitcase with clothing in order to stay and another just like it with almost two thousand letters that she had written him. They were arranged by date in bundles ties with colored ribbons, and they were all unopened.
You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.
Oh- and grab the plastic bag over by my suitcase." I slug down the last of the coffee and get up. The bag contains panty hose. I put them on her desk. "They're for you." "You want me to look homeless, desperate, but also kind of fabulous?
Art is the suitcase of history, carrying the essentials. Art is the life buoy of history. Art is seed, art is memory, art is vaccine.
That's a big trunk," James said, as we jammed in the leathery old case that looked so much like the black heart of some leviathan. "It fits a tuba, three suitcases, a dead dog, and a garment bag almost perfectly." "That's just what they used to say in the ads," I said.
My name is Carter Kane. I'm fourteen and my home is a suitcase.
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