My information is based on yesterday’s newspaper. But that’s OK, because I’m living in the past. It’s always two days ago to me.
I don’t think much about guys from the past. I’m glad I knew them, but there’s a reason they didn’t make it into my future.
My discontent has accumulated over the past months, searching for a leak in the dam I’ve constructed to separate my true feelings from the situation closing in around me.
...The most important thing, I think. You can't run from your past. You have to take it for what it is and realize that it's part of you.
When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.
The centuries are sprinkled with rare magic with divine creatures who help us get past the common and extraordinary ills that beset us
To uncover your true potential you must first find your own limits and then you have to have the courage to blow past them." — Picabo Street
Especially as I was an old friend, or at least I was a person she had known for a long time, which after a certain point is almost the same thing...
This moment is our greatest treasure. We cannot replay the past events. We have no control over future events.
The difference between the modern laws and those of the past is that wisdom is no longer a respected requirement and it has become secondary in importance to bureaucratic procedure.
Well, you can't have heartbreak without love," Dan pointed out. "If your heart was really broken, then at least you know you really loved him.
When she finally pulled away from him—much to Aley’s stuttering forward reluctance—he wanted only to echo Aley’s words: “Oh! Do it again.
But even Es and cocaine, over the years they blow holes in your brain, rob you of your memories, your past. Which is fair enough, convenient even.
The past is dead and buried. But I know now that buried things have a way of rising to the surface when one least expects them to.
As we walked, I kept taking glances at her through the crowd, quick snapshots: a photographic series entitled Perfection Stands Still While Mortals Walk Past.
People who care nothing for their country's stories and songs,' he said, 'are like people without a past- without a memory- they are half people
Joy, joy, joy! Past ages crowd on thee, but each one remembers, And the future is dark, and the present is spread, Like a pillow of thorns for thy slumberless head.
You can't do anything about the past, it's done and can't be mended. But the future is different, if you just think what you really want and reach out and take it.
Come quickly with me. Inhale the divine that swoops from nostril to blunted throat then sneaks past guarded doors into the hallway of your heart where the lamplight grows.
Pain of the past never goes away, you just find a way to deal with it. And in the future....... all the promise it holds.... that's what keeps you moving forward, and out of the darkness.
What if a statue of me walked past my clone frozen in thought? Which one of the two would make a better quarterback than Geno Smith?
