The wheels are spinning in my head all the time.
Asking the front wheels of a car to do their normal job of steering while handling more than 170 is like asking a man to wire a plug while juggling. Penguins. While making love. To a beautiful woman while on fire, on stage. In front of the Queen. It's all going to go wrong.
He who puts out his hand to stop the wheel of history will have his fingers crushed.
Blood alone moves the wheels of history.
If you own a home with wheels on it and several cars without, you just might be a redneck.
I love to get behind the wheel and get competitive.
Ka is a wheel; its one purpose is to turn. The spin of ka always brings us back to the same place, to face and reface our mistakes and defeats until we can learn from them. When we learn from the past, the wheel continues to move forward, towards growth and evolution. When we don’t, the wheel spins backward, and we are given another chance. If once more we squander the opportunity, the wheel continues its rotation towards devolution, or destruction.
Passion about nothing is like pouring gasoline in a car without wheels. It isn't going to lead anybody anywhere.
I have pinned my faith to the spinning wheel. On it, I believe, the salvation of this country depends.
If a man lose his balance, and immerse himself in any trades or pleasures for their own sake, he may be a good wheel or pin, but he is not a cultivated man.
The mill wheel turns, it turns forever, though what is uppermost remains not so.
Inventor: A person who makes an ingenious arrangement of wheels, levers and springs, and believes it civilization.
Nature (the Art whereby God hath made and governs the World) is by the Art of man, as in many other things, so in this also imitated, that it can make an Artificial Animal. For seeing life is but a motion of Limbs, the beginning whereof is in some principal part within; why may we not say, that all Automata (Engines that move themselves by springs and wheels as doth a watch) have an artificial life?
If the person at the wheel refuses to ask for directions, it is time for a new driver.
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels. Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields.
When I've tried to reinvent the wheel, I get bashed for not doing the familiar things.
Like bones to the human body, the axle to the wheel, the wing to the bird, and the air to the wing, so is liberty the essence of life. Whatever is done without it is imperfect.
My husband's personality was filled with serenity and sunlight. Not even the incurable illness which fell upon him soon after our marriage could long cloud his brow. On the very night of his death he took me in his arms, and during the many months when he lay dying in his wheel chair, he often said jokingly to me: 'Well, have you already picked out a lover?' I blushed with shame. 'Don't deceive me,' he added on one occasion, 'that would seem ugly to me, but pick out an attractive lover, or preferably several. You are a splendid woman, but still half a child, and you need toys.
The book is like the spoon, scissors, the hammer, the wheel. Once invented, it cannot be improved. You cannot make a spoon that is better than a spoon... The book has been thoroughly tested, and it's very hard to see how it could be improved on for its current purposes.
And Michael Schumacher is 37 seconds ahead, so he can refuel the car, change all four wheels, take off his helmet, have a smoke and a cup of tea, and rejoin in first.
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.
The wheel of fortune turns round incessantly, and who can say to himself, I shall today be uppermost.
The everyday cares and duties, which men call drudgery, are the weights and counterpoises of the clock of time, giving its pendulum a true vibration and its hands a regular motion; and when they cease to hang upon its wheels, the pendulum no longer swings, the hands no longer move the clock stands still.
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
If women ran the world, we'd still be searching for the wheel.
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