Hope and Crosby made seven 'Road' movies, starting in 1940 with 'Road to Singapore.' The movies were always about Crosby and Hope fleeing America and finding Dorothy Lamour in some exotic location. Bob's character was cocky and cowardly; Bing's chara...
To truly fail in life is to never try. When you fall on your face, it is an opportunity for you to find the road again. It may remind you how hard the road is, but you will never forget its presence once you make contact.
Kanan is a big road through the Santa Monica Mountains. Between mid-March and mid-April, when you get over to the western side of the mountains, it's populated by Spanish broom - this beautiful, yellow, flowering weed that smells the way I imagine it...
Those roads provided breath-taking views. There's something special about an empty road going on and on and on to the horizon where the sun burns the world away into a dancing, shmmering heat haze that reflects the crystal blue sky, literally blurrin...
In a way, 'On the Road's greatest victory is that nobody's eyes will be opened any longer by reading it; the last time I met any young people who were actually 'on the road' was when I covered Occupy St. Louis. Those few, dirty kids were fighting a b...
Humungus: [lines spoken offscreen, scarcely audible but coming up in subtitles, while Max is eating the dog food] Smegma crazies to the left! The gate! Gayboy berserkers, to the gate!
Max: If it's all the same to you... I'll drive that tanker. Pappagallo: The offer is closed. Too late for deals. Max: No deals. I want to drive that truck.
The Gyro Captain: [Max loads his shotgun with a shell found on a dead body] How do we know that one's not a dud? Max: [Max aims at the Captain's face] Find out.
My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die. I counted. It happened on the Jellicoe Road. The prettiest road I’d ever seen, where trees made breezy canopies like a tunnel to Shangri-La. We were going to the ocean, hundreds of miles awa...
The Vagabond Give to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see, Bread I dip in the river - There's the life for a man like me, There's the life for ever. Let the bl...
The road is a lot of work.
Whales follow the whale-roads. Geese, roads of magnetized air. To go great distance, exactitudes matter. Yet how often the heart that set out for Peru arrives in China, Steering hard. consulting the charts the whole journey.
When I was a child I read books for entertainment and information; I now think of books as lifeboats.
I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed out my words. I want to get all fucked up and write raw and ugly about all these things I see and am and could be.
This is my story. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I'm going somewhere beautiful, and I know I'm on my way... It's been a beautiful adventure. It always will be.
Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I'll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.
My wish has always been to write my own story, to create a life that’s worth writing about. But is a story worth anything at all if I have no one to tell it to?
The stony silence of death, trapped by the original gravity of our sins, and the perpetuity of a long, leisurely yawn, a world where blood and bone no longer matter.
Januz feels glad to have her in his arms--his wife, who would do anything to protect their son. This is how she presents herself. Like a soldier who would kill for her country. And her country is their son.
I love inscriptions on flyleaves and notes in margins, I like the comradely sense of turning pages someone else turned, and reading passages someone long gone has called my attention to.
...you shouldn’t hate something you don’t know, because it may turn out to be the bearer of your greatest good fortune.
