Quotes About Movement

One uses the verb 'descend' advisedly, for what is required is some word suggesting instantaneous activity. About Baxter's progress from the second floor to the first there was nothing halting or hesitating. He, so to speak, did it now. Planting

You're sitting in the old arm-chair, thinking of this and that, and then suddenly you look up, and there he is. He moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly fish.

It was not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door, but 'twas enough—it served. Stubbing it squarely with his toe, Henry shot forward, all arms and legs. It

Boil the whole question of old age down, and what it amounts to is that a man is young as long as he can dance without getting lumbago, and, if he cannot dance, he is never young at all.

I move in the university of the waves.

Through the mountains you go as a breeze comes

A quién le puedo preguntar Qué vine a hacer en este mundo? Por qué me muevo sin querer, Por qué no puedo estar inmóvil? Por qué voy rodando sin ruedas, Volando sin alas ni plumas? Y qué me dio por trasmigrar Si viven en Chile mis huesos?

En ese territorio, de tus pies a tu frente, andando, andando, andando, me pasaré la vida.

El agua anda descalza por las calles mojadas.

The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands.

Porque o amor, enquanto a vida nos acossa, é simplesmente uma onda alta sobre as ondas.

Whom can I ask what I came to make happen in this world? Why do I move without wanting to, why am I not able to sit still? Why do I go rolling without wheels, flying without wings or feathers, and why did I decide to migrate if my bones live in Chile?

We're constantly moving dust from one place to another, only to have it replaced by more dust — entropy always wins.

We must find our own self-soothing techniques—mantras, meditation, movement—and embrace them in times of difficulty.

But it's not very likely, is it, that any movement towards greater tolerance would persist in wartime? After all, in war, you've got this enormous emphasis on love between men - comradeship - and everybody approves. But at the same time there's always this little niggle of anxiety. Is it right kind of love? Well, one of the ways you make sure it's the right kind is to make it crystal clear what the penalties for the other kind are.

A story is a living thing, it moves and shifts...

The tide was a poem that only time could create, and I watched it stream and brim and makes its steady dash homeward, to the ocean.

On the road, he was alive, vibrant, moving. It didn't afford the freedom of a jet plane flying through a clear sky, but a highway offered something almost as profound, an entry into the secret regions of the earth where towns with foreign, unrecallable names were violated once, then forgotten for all time.

music as we danced our way in both

Few things rivet me like the beauty of moving water.

It was the seventh or eighth floor, she couldn't remember which. A streetcar crawled past the front of the hotel, and people on the sidewalk moved in every direction, with legs on either side of them, and it crossed her mind to jump.

Born to be Wild. She is the Wild Girl. We call her that because, like our natural wilderness, she follows her own laws. She is part of all of us, no matter what our age or sex. She is freedom and joy, love of the quest and of movement. She is creativity and serenity. She is springtime, full of potential and energy. She is the seed and the sprout, bursting with life. She is the path through the forest, and she is the forest itself.

Euphemia's eyelashes were blown back into her eyes, and her hair was whipped about until it all came down and streamed out behind her.

She moved like clouds, like water, like anything lovely and effortless and free.