Friday dusk becomes Friday evening. The park is feverish with life. A young Asian man screams into his mobile phone, not stopping to listen: a young man with his heart in his penis.
Americans are following a stampede to the financial slaughterhouse. Let us stop following them and go in the other direction.
Mum liked to say that some things happen for a reason, that sometimes obstacles were there to stop you from doing something stupid.
Loneliness is designed to help you discover who you are…and to stop looking outside yourself for your worth.
Stop listening to the TV tell you about America the beautiful . . . get up and be America the beautiful.
He said he preferred to feel the earth sing through his feet, and that shoes stopped you from hearing the song of the earth.
We've been here before. She knows I won't stop until she screams. Her pride won't let her scream until she's on the cusp of death.
Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station.
You young people never say anything. And us old folks don't know how to stop talking.
I’ll touch you. Lick you. Fuck you. When I want. Where I want. And you can’t do a thing to stop me except use your safe word.
Eventually, you must stop running to something or from something and embrace where you are. Otherwise you’ll never embrace anything.
I highly doubt anyone would see anything,” he said, replying to my thoughts. “We’re on the 30th floor. Stop procrastinating; take off your fucking clothes.
If there’s one thing I have learned it’s that if you carry on as though nothing strange is happening, it usually stops being strange
If he'd been any other boy, and this was any other world, I would have kissed him. Nothing could have stopped me.
His brain and his heart knew this, but he couldn’t stop himself, and the razor of his conscience lent the undeniable thrill of pain to the act.
Though the human heart may have to pause for rest when climbing the heights of affection it rarely stops on the slippery slope of hatred.
The human heart may find here and there a resting-place short of the highest height of affection, but we seldom stop in the steep, downward slope of hatred.
There are a few things I've learned over the years. One is that time doesn't stop for anyone; hurdling forward and onward, unstoppable and catastrophic.
When you're a student of poetry, you're lucky if you don't realize how untalented you are until you get a little better. Otherwise, you would just stop.
There were no scruples, no feelings of respect or loyal affection that would stop us from making up our minds by the pure light of reason - and of our own desires.
People are naturally hardworking but will stop working hard at anything if they learn from experience that their effort makes no difference.
