Quotes About Drifting

I dunno. It seems to be drifting toward some kind of conclusion," Virgil said. "Keep your eye on the newspapers." "I'm like everybody else," she said. "I don't read the papers.

After leaving this park the Vivonne began to flow again more swiftly. How often have I watched, and longed to imitate, when I should be free to live as I chose, a rower who had shipped his oars and lay stretched out on his back, his head down, in the bottom of his boat, letting it drift with the current, seeing nothing but the sky which slipped quietly above him, shewing upon his features a foretaste of happiness and peace.

He hated clocks that ticked; every click a moment gone. Couldn't imagine sleeping in a room with one, drifting into unconsciousness to the sound of life slipping away.

I still think of myself as a broken place, a drifting isle with no home. —Quebrado

I was a kite miles out to sea. I was soaring without a string.

Little solace comes to those who grieve when thoughts keep drifting as walls keep shifting and this great blue world of ours seems a house of leaves moments before the wind.

Maybe in some lives you just float around and expect nothing else and don't even try to change. Maybe that was most lives.

Invariably pure and austere, poets mostly starve to death embracing empty mountains, and when white clouds have no master, they just drift off, idle thoughts carefree.

Next to the habit of drifting, the most dangerous human trait is the lack of caution.

She had Googled psychogeography, just to make sure she wasn't getting it wrong. It was, she discovered, about playfulness, about drifting around urban environments, about getting away from your normal routes, about opening yourself up to randomness.

Foehnish You. Stillness flew ahead of us, a second, clear life. I won, I lost, we believed in somber wonders, the branch, quickly written into the sky, carried us, grew through the drifting white into the moon-orbit, a morning leaped up into yesterday, we retrieved the candlestick, scattered, I crashed everything into no-one's hand.

She often told herself that story, easing herself into sleep, drifting off as she patched together the ghostly memory of someone in whose real existence she hardly believed any more.

All I wanted was to be alone on a sea of unconsciousness, slipping away as the bed became a raft and my mind let go of itself.

as they drifted they had gathered trouble and a great deal of peculiar knowledge about human beings, what human beings would do or say under extreme duress. It was not something you could do anything with but it interested them all the same.