Quotes About Train

Their memory's like a train: you can see it getting smaller as it pulls away And the things you can't remember Tell the things you can't forget that History puts a saint in every dream.

And they all pretend they're Orphans And their memory's like a train You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away And the things you can't remember Tell the things you can't forget that History puts a saint in every dream

You know what it's like—you see someone on the train screaming awful, racist things and think, 'How can I protect this person's right to free speech?

And sometimes, sitting in my chair I can feel the absence stretching out in all directions– like the deaf, defoliated silence just after a train has thundered past the platform, just before the mindless birds begin to chirp again –and the wildflowers that grow beside the tracks wobble wildly on their little stems, then gradually grow still and stand motherless and vertical in the middle of everything.

The train lurched and I saw my face in the window again. I wanted to calm the scared kid who was looking back at me, but didn't know how.

Education is a natural community function and occurs inevitably, since the young grow up on the old, towards their activities, and into (or against) their institutions; and the old foster, teach, train, exploit and abuse the young. Even neglect of the young, except physical neglect, has an educational effect -- not the worst possible.

The mist, the rain, and cold, low clouds gave the train a feeling of early morning, a chill and predawn dimness that lasted until noon.

I was shown each second passing as the train belted along, ticking off the buildings with a speed that made me melancholy.

The train was sunlit and emptier.

I found my berth and discovered that no one else was going to Xian. The sleeper was empty. This was the rarest situation on a Chinese train, and one to be relished. Such circumstances were almost luxurious and definitely cozy.

A train journey is travel; everything else—planes especially—is transfer, your journey beginning when the plane lands.—GRB

It was always like a fire drill, getting on or off a Chinese train, with people panting and pushing

Our life is a constant journey, from birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, our needs change, but the train keeps moving. Life is the train, not the station.

The towns and countryside that the traveler sees through a train window do not slow down the train, nor does the train affect them. Neither disturbs the other. This is how you should see the thoughts that pass through your mind when you meditate. —DILGO KHYENTSE RINPOCHE

I doubt that art needed Ruskin any more than a moving train needs one of its passengers to shove it.

If art is to have a special train, the critic must keep some seats reserved on it.

Hire for attitude. Train for skill... More

We recruit for attitude and train for skill.

2. The instant the doors open, you want to push forward as hard as possible, in an effort to get onto the train without letting anybody off. This is very important. If anybody does get off, it is legal to tackle him and drag him back on.

I'm not saying that riding the train will change your life, or that passenger rail will be a big moneymaker one day. But no matter how fast we feel we have to go, shouldn't there be room for a train, where you can just sit back, take a breath, and be human for a little while? Just for a little while? Is that so bad?

Well, nobody wants to be alone, especially around Christmas. I'm sure you know that most suicides happen around the holidays. Besides, this isn't a train this time of year. It's a social club of strangers looking for a friend.

to the left, shattering the glass on the door leading to the train car in front of them. She gripped the flash-bang, engaged it, and threw it through the opening. She whirled and shot out the glass in the window to the rear. The bullet was followed by the second flash-bang, which Robie tossed through the new opening.

I can remember watching large, tentative, individual flakes of snow falling and blowing around aimlessly in the wind generated by the train through the window of the CTA commuter line from Lincoln Park back up to Libertyville, and thinking, 'This is my crude approximation of a human life.

Perhaps, he thought, if I only think of this second, this moment, the train won't come at all. Think of the water, think of now.