Quotes About Strip

I keep up with James Kochalka's online strip, and if I see a link somewhere or someone tells me about something, I'll look at it, but I don't usually keep up with any sites other than the 'American Elf.' I always have this feeling that there's not enough space in the screen, like everything's always getting cut off.

I got a lot of friends that come up off the strip for me. The same ones thatll come up off the hip for me.

War, compared the selection process he went through in 1946 to a slave market: Everyone was ordered to the courtyard and told to strip. When your name was called you appeared before a medical team for a health inspection. The exam consisted of

For a long time, I was under the impression that 'Terry and the Pirates' was the best comic strip in the United States.

who might have ventured into the Strip were usually warned in time and rode away to more tolerant

was calling for us like a madman. When we reached him he was dripping with perspiration, and trembling like a startled horse. We had great difficulty in soothing him. He complained that he was in civilian kit, and wanted to tear my clothes off his body. I ordered him to strip, and we made a second exchange as quickly as possible.

A kiss about apple pie à la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. A kiss about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. A kiss about palm trees speeding by, trailing pink clouds when you drive down the Strip sizzling with champagne. A kiss about spotlights fanning the sky and the swollen sea spilling like tears all over your legs.

I once wore a professional disguise and infiltrated a high-level business meeting just to get material for the Dilbert comic strip. On

digging up some of the perennials that needed dividing, and bringing them back to a small sunny strip he had fitted out as a garden in his new place in the mountains.

Why not?" I said. "The night is young." I was lying. The night was old and chilly, with a slow heartbeat. The tires whined like starved cats on the fog-sprinkled black-top. The neons along the Strip glared with insomnia.

For the uninitiated, 'Calvin and Hobbes' is a daily comic strip detailing the antics of an unruly six-year-old and his misanthropic stuffed tiger. The boy, whose vocabulary is packed with more 10-dollar words than a GRE flashcard set, is named after John Calvin, the Reformation-era theologian who preached the doctrine of predestination.

Jane had spent too many hours in elevators and pathology rooms, and the pallor of strip lighting haunted her like a twelve-year-old's memories of a bad dream.

The longer you go to church the easier it is to forget one of Jesus's greatest lessons: the kingdom of heaven belongs to children.6 To really understand God, it's best to strip everything away, to get rid of all the distractions and see God as a child might.

In a comic strip, you can suggest motion and time, but it's very crude compared to what an animator can do. I have a real awe for good animation.

I see a poem as a multi-coloured strip behind peeling plaster, in separate, shining fragments.

My mother has an absolute passion for sour fruit and can strip a gooseberry bush quicker than a priest can strip a choirboy.

I've always liked Atlanta. And not just for the strip clubs, but the shopping and the food.

Below, he could see down the entire Strip, from the radioactive green lion at the base of the MGM Grand to the glowing spire of the Stratosphere. The logjam street traffic just added to the visual effect: a thousand headlights blinking like neurons in the glowing spine that snaked down the center of the city.

I take inspirations from newspaper strip cartoonists who look for ways of expanding their characters' worlds once they have established the initial concept of their strips.

Bill Watterson argued with his medium even as he eclipsed it. He was all too aware that no artistic expression better exemplifies our disposable consumer culture than the daily newspaper comic strip: today's masterpiece is tomorrow's birdcage lining.

I grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, where everything was in a strip mall.

The reprieve was inevitably brief. I would return to the strip and all would be excess: Hummers purchased on tax breaks for use on flat asphalt, without even a pothole to challenge them; quarter-mile long buffets vacuumed down by impossibly corpulent diners; retirees addicted to endless hours of daily television and enticed to this place by a craving for more spectacle, more and ever more.

I have always tended toward a lush prose style, but I take care to modulate it from story to story and to strip it down entirely when necessary.

Consider me your candy stripper... I mean striper.