Quotes About Falling

It's exciting to do something like this because usually what happens in theater is that, after the first or second reading of a play, it falls apart completely and the rehearsal process is such that you begin to pick up the pieces and put it back together again.

At last, the pure and fragile snow was falling upon us, separating off the air from the dirt, the living from the dead, the reader from the book.

Here's the truth, simply stated...bookstores are suffering from a serious crisis of falling sales. Don't believe a single zero of all those editions claimed to be 100,000! 40,000!...even 400 copies! just for the suckers! Alack!...Alas!...only love and romance...and even then!...manage to keep selling...and a few murder mysteries...

Johanna: What's it feel like when you dive? Jacques: It's a feeling of slipping without falling. The hardest thing is when you're at the bottom. Johanna: Why? Jacques: 'Cause you have to find a good reason to come back up... and I have a hard time finding one.

Rising amateurs always intimidate falling masters.

When you fear falling, you never get off the ground.

we, who have always thought of joy as rising . . . feel the emotion that almost amazes us when a happy thing falls.

We both knew we were speaking about the effortlessness with which one falls in love without intending to, as if we were two stalks of bamboo bend toward each other by the chance of the wind. And then we bent toward each other and kissed, lost in the nowhere of being together.

The night surrounded me, a photograph unglued from its frame. The lining of a coat ripped open like the two shells of an oyster. The day and the night unglued, and I falling in between not knowing on which layer I was resting, whether it was the cold grey upper leaf of dawn or the dark layer of night.

But in 1928 she had inexplicably, confusingly fallen in love. The man who triggered this upheaval was John Erskine, best-selling American author of such books as The Private Life of Helen of Troy and a renowned pianist.

How can any of this be of importance or value to you right now? Maybe it will be useful only in the future to assure you that with age everything, yes, everything, in one way or another, falls into place. You can face your past in a way you never thought possible: confidently, securely, and without fear.

I recall how the flash of her glowing dress against my closing eyelids was like the neon glow of hotels flashing VACANCY VACANCY on a long night ride. I felt the weight of my mind hanging from a branch, pulling, pulling, and before I knew it the stem had snapped and I was falling, blind, into the void.

How it felt to have the world moving beneath me, a hand gripping mine, knowing if I fell, at least I wouldn't do it alone.

It's a funny feeling, being suddenly airborne. Just as you realize it, it's over, and you're sinking.

The rain fell like dead bullets.

Sometimes it felt like her life was a series of falls from ever-greater heights.

You are not falling in love with God. You fell into Mr. Love. You are united to Love. Love is a Person. Now, just as the sap flows effortlessly through the vine into the branch, so is there a continual infilling of Holy Spirit – a continual infilling of Love Himself. You grow in Love, just as the branch grows.

Snow not falling but flying sidewise, and sudden, not signaled by the slow curdling of clouds all day and a flake or two drifting downward, but rushing forward all at once as though sent for. (The blizzard of '36 had looked like that.) And filling up the world's concavities, pillowing up in the gloaming, making night light with its whiteness, and then falling still in every one's dreams, falling for pages and pages... ("Novelty")

The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

The Suicide, as she is falling, Illuminated by the moon, Regrets her act, and finds appalling The thought she will be dead so soon.

Falling can result in bone fracture, but falling in love can break the heart; it is an invisible fracture that may stay forever.

The real "it is well" is something I say from the ground, having fallen.

The expression "atonal music" is most unfortunate—it is on a par with calling flying "the art of not falling," or swimming "the art of not drowning."

The rewards of that productivity give way to a fear of falling behind as an impetus to keep running. Soon enough, the work crowds out relationships and outside activities.