Quotes About Road

You said there's a road?" "I did. That part I'm sure of. And where there's a road, there are people. In theory." The grin burst through. "In theory.

You said there's a road?" "I did. That part I'm sure of. And where there's a road, there are people. In theory." The grin burst through. "In theory." He threw an arm around me, a half-embrace, whispering, "Good work," and I started to shake a little. It was over. Our ordeal was almost over. Except it wasn't. Our real problems--being subjects in a supernatural experiment--had only begun.

I stayed up there for about ten minutes, straining for any sign of light, even the flicker of headlights on a distant road. Then I climbed back down. "It's dark," I said, after I leaped to the ground. "Um, yeah," Sam said. "It's night. How the hell you expected to see anything--" She stopped as she realized what I was really saying. "Oh.

We walked about fifteen minutes before we heard an oncoming car. Corey stepped into the middle of the road. A pickup whipped around the curve. Corey waved his arms. The guy in the pickup laid on his horn and veered past, sending Corey stumbling as his bad knee gave way. Daniel and I helped him up. "Oww…," he said. "There'd have been a bigger oww if he hadn't swerved," I said.

We tramped over, and as we stepped from the thick trees, we all stopped and stared. Then Corey raced forward, arms raised. "It's a road. Oh my God. A road!" He dropped to his knees by the roadside. "Oww." Daniel helped him back to his feet. "The knee is good," I said. "But the knee is not completely healed. Be careful." "It's a road," Corey said, pointing. "A dirt road," Hayley muttered.

It's a road," Corey said, pointing. "A dirt road," Hayley muttered. "So? We've been slogging through the forest for two days. What do you want? A six-lane highway?" "That'd be nice." "Yeah, until you raced out, screaming for help, and got mowed down by a logging truck." He walked into the middle and turned, waving his arms. "It's a road!" I patted his back. "It's a lovely road.

perhaps with the guardsman who had such brown eyes, and a mustache that curled up on either side of his nose like two waxed black laces, even as this guardsman, whose name you didn't ask calls out a name in his sleep that is not your name, you are dreaming about the road again. When

había recogido a un europeo en una carretera.

BAD LUCK on the road can last only so long; then you die, or your luck improves.

When you travel by road in the west you travel with a cohort of dust which streams up from your tyres and rolls away in a disintegrating funnel, defining the currents of air your vehicle sets in motion … And the heat is unthinkable, no matter how widely the windows are open, and the sweat streams off your body and into your socks, and if there are a number of people in the car their body stenches mingle disagreeably

I am not unconscious of the persuasive power exerted by these considerations to drag men along in the current; but I am not at liberty to travel that road.

The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive.

Nothing's ever too fast. Maybe sometimes on the road some people are too fast if they don't know how to control the car, but in racing, the faster and more power and grip, the better it is.

To think of how many times I have carted a lingering drunk out of my house in a wheelbarrow and leaned him up against a tree along the road.

Through first-class education, a generation marches down the long uncertain road of the future with confidence.

They owned a pickup truck that, when on the road, looked like it had risen from a junkyard of its own volition and might have to be shot in the head to be killed.

kids come along with me when I drive down the

In today's media-saturated climate, the word "cult" is an instant road sign for the audience: WARNING: WEIRDOS AHEAD.

The true signature and perhaps even the miracle of human love is helplessness, and all the more miraculous because it is a helplessness which we wittingly or unwittingly choose; in our love of a child, a partner, a work, or a road we have to take against the odds.

Forty years ago, Constance Halliday set us on this road and created her squad of Sphinxes. It hasn't been exactly what any of us expected. But we have done our best, and we will make her proud. She challenged us to make justice our priority, and tomorrow, justice will be done.

Spontaneous kindness is to hipsters as high beams are to deer.

For the first time ever I was taking the family on the road. We stayed with my in-laws, which on life's list of experiences ranks right below sitting in a tub full of scissors.

the best-known and most direct of which was the Lincoln Highway, some 3,400 miles of road starting in New York City, wending its way through thirteen states, and ending in San Francisco. The highway was the brainchild of Indiana businessman Carl Fisher, who made his fortune selling automobile headlights.

shot … Death enveloped me, it suffocated me. It stuck to me like glue. I felt I could touch it. The idea of dying, of ceasing to be, began to fascinate me. To no longer exist. To no longer feel the excruciating pain of my foot. To no longer feel anything, neither fatigue nor cold, nothing. To break rank, to let myself slide to the side of the road … My