Leaning Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 484 quotes )
leaning in he kissed her gently, first on the cheek then on her lips. When he met her eyes, she saw the young man shed loved last summer and the young man she still loved now."I never stopped loving you, Ronnie. and I never stopped thinking about you. even if summers do come and end" she smiled knowing he was telling the truth. "I love you too, Will Blakelee" she wispered, leaning in to kiss him again.
Leaning her silly, beautiful, drunken head on my shoulder, she said, "Oh, Esther, I don't want to be a feminist. I don't enjoy it. It's no fun." "I know," I said. "I don't either." People think you decide to be a "radical," for God's sake, like deciding to be a librarian or a ship's chandler. You "make up your mind," you "commit yourself" (sounds like a mental hospital, doesn't it?). I said Don't worry, we could be buried together and have engraved on our tombstone the awful truth, which some day somebody will understand: WE WUZ PUSHED.
The House Was Quiet and the World Was CalmThe house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet and the world was calm. The words were spoken as if there was no book, Except that the reader leaned above the page, Wanted to lean, wanted much to be The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom The summer night is like a perfection of thought. The house was quiet because it had to be. The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind: The access of perfection to the page. And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Lifting and Leaning There are two kinds of people on earth today, Just two kinds of people, no more, I say. Not the good and the bad, for 'tis well understood The good are half bad and the bad are half good. Not the happy and sad, for the swift-flying years Brings each man his laughter and each man his tears. Not the rich and the poor, for to count a man's wealth You must first know the state of his conscience and health. Not the humble and proud, for in life's busy span He who puts on vain airs is not counted a man. No! The two kinds of people on earth I mean Are the people who lift and the people who lean. Wherever you go you will find the world's masses Are ever divided in just two classes. And, strangely enough, you will find, too, I ween, There is only one lifter to twenty who lean. In which class are you? Are you easing the load Of overtaxed lifters who toil down the road? Or are you a leaner who lets others bear Your portion of worry and labor and care?
You mean the Prophet wo?t print it because Fudge wo?t let them? said Hermione irritably.Rita gave Hermione a long, hard look. Then, leaning forward across the table toward her, she said in a businesslike tone,?All right, Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They wo?t print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. I?s against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just do?t want to believe You-Know-Wh?s back?
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise--she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression--then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.'I'm p-paralyzed with happiness.'She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I've heard it said that Daisy's murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
My mind is, to use a disgustingly obvious simile, like a wastebasket full of waste paper; bits of hair, and rotting apple cores. I am feeling depressed from being exposed to so many lives, so many of them exciting, new to my realm of experience. I pass by people, grazing them on the edges, and it bothers me. I've got to admire someone to really like them deeply - to value them as friends. It was that way with Ann: I admired her wit, her riding, her vivacious imagination - all the things that made her the way she was. I could lean on her as she leaned on me. Together the two of us could face anything - only not quite anything, or she would be back. And so she is gone, and I am bereft for awhile. But what do I know of sorrow?
After all, what is it?- this indescribable something which men will persist in terming "genius"? I agree with Buffon- with Hogarth- it is but diligence after all. Look at me!- how I labored- how I toiled- how I wrote! Ye Gods, did I not write? I knew not the word "ease." By day I adhered to my desk, and at night, a pale student, I consumed the midnight oil. You should have seen me- you should. I leaned to the right. I leaned to the left. I sat forward. I sat backward. I sat tete baissee (as they have it in the Kickapoo), bowing my head close to the alabaster page. And, through all, I- wrote. Through joy and through sorrow, I-wrote. Through hunger and through thirst, I-wrote. Through good report and through ill report- I wrote. Through sunshine and through moonshine, I-wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say. The style!- that was the thing. I caught it from Fatquack- whizz!- fizz!- and I am giving you a specimen of it now.
But you? Are you all right? You're a bit pale.""Am I?" Small wonder, she thought, but smiled as she enjoyed the sensation of holding a secret inside her. "I don't feel pale. But you..." Swimming in the river of discovery, she leaned down. "You look wonderful. Rough and windblown and sexy."His narrowed eyes flickered, and he stepped back, a little uneasy when she rubbed a hand over his cheek. There were a half a dozen men milling about, he thought. And every one of them had eyes."I was called down to the stables early this morning, didn't take time to shave."She decided to take this evasive move as a challenge rather than an insult. "I like it. Just a little dangerous. If you've got time later, I thought you might help me out.""With what?""Take a ride with me.""I could do that.""Good. About five?" She leaned down again and this time took a fistful of his shirt to yank him a step closer. "And, Brian? Don't shave.
Now suzanne takes you hand. And she leads you to the river. She is wearing rags and feathers. From salvation army counters. And the sun pours down like honey. On our lady of the harbour. And she shows you where to look. Among the garbage and the flowers. There are heroes in the seaweed. There are children in the morning. They are leaning out for love. And they will lean that way forever. While suzanne holds the mirror. And you want to travel with her. And you want to travel blind. And you know that she will trust you. For shes touched your perfect body with her mind.
As far as history goes I am dead. If there is something beyond I shall have to bounce back. I have found God, but he is insufficient. I am only spiritually dead. Physically I am alive. Morally I am free. The world which I have departed is a menagerie. The dawn is breaking on a new world, a jungle world in which lean spirits roam with sharp claws. If a am a hyena I am a lean and hungry one: I go forth to fatten myself.
The Telephone. When I was just as far as I could walk. From here today. There was an hour. All still. When leaning with my head against a flower. I heard you talk. Don't say I didn't for I heard you say. You spoke from that flower on the window sill-Do you remember what it was you said ''First tell me what it was you thought you heard.''Having found the flower and driven a bee away. I leaned my head. And holding by the stalk. I listened and I thought I caught the word. What was it. Did you call me by my name Or did you say. Someone said "Come"I heard it as I bowed.''I may have thought as much but not aloud.'Well so I came.
Once the soul looked contemptuously upon the body, and then that contempt was the supreme thing: - the soul wished the body lean, monstrous, and famished. Thus it thought to escape from the body and the earth. But that soul was itself lean, monstrous, and famished; and cruelty was the delight of this soul! So my brothers, tell me: What does your body say about your soul? Is not your soul poverty and filth and miserable self-complacency?