The booing and the drama help make the Olympics interesting, but at what cost? When will people finally get tired of it and start watching the X-Games or competitive tire rolling instead?
I never tire of the heroes that I knew growing up.
I'm no mechanic but I can change my oil and I know what to do when I get a flat tire and I can hot-wire it in an emergency.
In racing, they say that your car goes where your eyes go. The driver who cannot tear his eyes away from the wall as he spins out of control will meet that wall; the driver who looks down the track as he feels his tires break free will regain control of his vehicle.
The strange thing, though, is that most people who write novels these days seem to be aware of only a fraction of its possibilities. Kundera goes on and on about this, and I never tire of reading him on the subject, because I agree very deeply with it.
Your car breaks down in the middle of the night. It's raining. It's cold. And you have to change the tire of your car. You cannot really enjoy that it is cold and wet, but you can bring acceptance to it. Peace flows into it.
Let a man find himself, in distinction from others, on top of two wheels with a chain - at least in a poor country like Russia - and his vanity begins to swell out like his tires. In America it takes an automobile to produce this effect.
Im lucky that its about fashion and perfume and cosmetics. If my father had owned a tire company, I dont know what I would have done.
You conquered the landscape with the soles of shoes, not the tires.
My whole lifestyle is different. I have a really busy schedule, and I pretty much have an airplane ride every day. But I like it. It's cool. I like being busy. I think that it's good that I'm young and I'm going through this, and I'm not, like, 40. I think it's just easier now at a younger age to be going through what I'm going through because it's definitely really tiring and hard on the body.
If thy friends tire of thee, remember that it is human to tire of everything.
When every one is to cultivate himself into man, condemning a man to machine-like labor amounts to the same thing as slavery. If a factory-worker must tire himself to death twelve hours and more, he is cut off from becoming man. Every labor is to have the intent that the man be satisfied.... His labor is nothing taken by itself, has no object in itself, is nothing complete in itself; he labors only into another's hands, and is used (exploited) by this other.
I say: liberate yourself as far as you can, and you have done your part; for it is not given to every one to break through all limits, or, more expressively, not to everyone is that a limit which is a limit for the rest. Consequently, do not tire yourself with toiling at the limits of others; enough if you tear down yours. He who overturns one of his limits may have shown others the way and the means; the overturning of their limits remains their affair.
At some point, don't voters start to see all of public life as one big polluted river? And if they do, don't they stop saying things like "That's a busted tire floating by" and "That's an old shoe"?
The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good. Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
The fable says that the tortoise won in the end, which is consoling, but the hare shows a good deal of speed and few signs of tiring.
Nothing so tires a person as having to struggle, not with himself, but with an abstraction.
I never cook at home. After 15 hours at work, I don't have much of a desire to cook at home. I do eat at home, but it's always something simple. Raw nuts. Almonds, hazelnuts, pine nuts--these are marvelous products. I am, however, the type that likes to go out to eat a lot. I never tire of it.
When you keep asserting that things are going to work out well, that you can do the job, that you will not have a flat tire, that you will get there on time, by talking up good results you invoke the law of positive effects and good results occur. Things do turn out well.
When someone's got your rear tires off the ground, you don't have much traction.
Men tire themselves in the pursuit of sleep.
It's hard to go. It's scary and lonely...and half the time you'll be wondering why the hell you're in Cincinnati or Austin or North Dakota or Mongolia or wherever your melodious little finger-plucking heinie takes you. There will be boondoggles and discombobulated days, freaked-out nights and metaphorical flat tires. But it will be soul-smashingly beautiful... It will open up your life.
My Bridgestone tire blows out on a day that Ferrari wins? Smells too convienent to me.
Processions, cavalcades, and all that fund of gay frippery, furnished out by tailors, barbers, and tire-women, mechanically influence the mind into veneration; an emperor in his nightcap would not meet with half the respect of an emperor with a crown.
By the time I'm old, I'm sure I'll have lived a full enough life. I think we're mortal for a reason. Life gets tiring, man!
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