Quotes About Dirt

I do not like the Broadway theatre because it does not know how to say hello. The tone of voice is false, the mannerisms are false, the sex is false, ideal, the Hollywood world of perfection, the clean image, the well pressed clothes, the well scrubbed anus, odorless, inhuman, of the Hollywood actor, the Broadway star. And the terrible false dirt of Broadway, the lower depths in which the dirt is imitated, inaccurate.

I screamed. You told me not to." He rubs at the soot on one hand with his thumb, then stares at it. "The dirt," he says, his voice strangely peaceful. "What about it?" she asks. "It's dirty.

My theory of characterization is basically this: Put some dirt on a hero, and put some sunshine on the villain, one brush stroke of beauty on the villain.

drugged to sleep by repetition of the diurnal round, the monotonous sorrow of the finite, within I am awake repairing in dirt the frayed immaculate thread forced by being to watch the birth of suns

Sutras are spread throughout fields and cities and written on rocks and trees. Dirt preaches sutras and so does plain old empty space.

I love getting facials. I've even started doing microdermabrasion to keep all the makeup and dirt out of my pores. And when I'm traveling, I'll always grab a moisturizing face mask.

The writer in movies is about as low as you can get and you really are a hired hand. You are paid a lot of money to be treated like dirt.

Evil lives in a pit. If you want to fight it, you must climb down into the slime to do so. White cloaks show the dirt more thank black, and silver tarnishes.

Now he says that they taste more like "sweet dirt.

All kids love to get dirty, but if I wandered into the garage, my father would say: 'Son, you're not going to have filthy hands like mine. You're going into show business.'

It means Daredevil had files, history, dirt, on all of his enemies. He was a lawyer. That's what lawyers do. They stack the deck in their favor. A lawyer doesn't ask the question unless he knows the answer. A lawyer doesn't go into a courtroom unless he knows he can WIN. That's what separated Murdock from the rest of the idiots like Spider-Man flailing around. Daredevil was PRECISE. Thought OUT. PREPARED.

The city was different back then--poor and crumbling--kept alive only by the gritty determination and steely cynicism of its occupants. But underneath the dirt was the apple-cheeked optimism of possibility, and while she worked, the whole city seemed to throb along with her.

About sweeping).... What he was in FACT doing was moving the dirt around with a broom, to give it a change of scenery and a chance to make new friends.

But can't you just wave your hand and make all the dirt fly away, then? [...] That works, but only if you wave them about on the floor with a scrubbing brush.

Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.

ROOT CELLAR Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch, Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark, Shoots dangled and drooped, Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates, Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes. And what a congress of stinks!-- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks. Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

Louis-Cesare looked pained. Ray was even dirtier than I was, and his bright red briefs had gotten a tear across the butt at some point, flashing a glimpse of hairy cheek whenever he moved. An awesome trophy he was not.

I have developed a rash on my body where the rough cloth rubs on my skin. I wanted to take a bath, thinking that the dirt on my skin made the rash worse, but the bathing tub has been turned upside down and is being used as an extra table in the kitchen and i cannot have it until spring, so I just spread goose grease on my rash. The dogs are following me everywhere.

Poets dream of being archaeologists, as if their lives were sedimentary, like rocks. Poets don't mind getting down and dirty with the past.

When Dickens designed false bookcases and books to disguise the door from the drawing room to his study, he invented a seven-volume series facetiously called "The Wisdom of Our Ancestors." In addition to volumes called Superstition, The Block, Ignorance, The Rack, Disease and The Stake, was one simply titled Dirt.

The accumulated sweat, dirt and oil that a famous athlete or gladiator strigiled off himself was sold to his fans in small vials. Some Roman women reportedly used it as a face cream.

The archetypal link between dirt and guilt, and cleanliness and innocence, is built into our language—perhaps into our psyches.

Deep at the bottom of all our sense of uncleanness, of dirt, is the feeling, primitive, irresolvable, universal, of the sanctity of the body. Nothing in the material sphere can properly be dirty except the body. We speak of a dirty road, but in an uninhabited world moist clay would be no more dirty than hard rock; it is the possibility of clay adhering to a foot which makes it mire.

The grief ran down the highways with me—a mix of tenderness and sorrow that shifted with every passing town, with the far side of every mountain pass, at every place where pavement turned to dirt.