Quotes About Bus

As she drifted back up to Harlem alone on the bus, she did not think about what RayShawn had said, how he had looked, what she had felt. She erased the details from her memory as the streets scrolled by beyond the window. Block by block, she planned a translation of herself.

A squirrel dashed by, leaping from the apple tree to one of the white oaks a good eight feet away. He looked like a little old man in a tatty fur coat running after a bus.

kids. So, to keep your folks safer, make sure they get in and out of those neighborhoods BEFORE the school bus drops off the kids.

It was only then that I realized that Jeremy never rode the bus, no matter how bad the weather. As

Little Man turned around and watched saucer-eyed as a bus bore down on him spewing clouds of red dust like a huge yellow dragon breathing fire. Little Man headed toward the bank, but it was too steep. He ran frantically along the road looking for a foothold and, finding one, hopped onto the bank, but not before the bus had sped past enveloping him in a scarlet haze while laughing white faces pressed against the bus windows. Little

Will you date me when I ask you out? it asked. Yes. Even if I'm ugly and you don't like my personality? Yes. No, you won't. I will! You're just saying that because you're in a hurry. Well, it won't be my fault if I miss the bus. Goodbye, sweetness. Bye! Where's my backpack? It's on the counter. Oh. Bye!

Hitler has missed the bus.

On the bus we got to know a newly married American couple – the groom was about to head off to Vietnam, which meant little to us in 1966; the full significance only hit me later on, and I still occasionally wonder if he survived.

A night journey on a bus was one of the few times when everything ambitious, wild, overconceived, hopeless, garish, and suffocatingly technical in American life nonetheless came together long enough to give the citizens a little peace, for it was only when they were on the move that Americans could feel anchored in their memories.

Maybe morons can't become brain surgeons, but a genius can be either a cardiologist or a postal clerk. Or a bus driver. A bus driver who made some fucked-up choices.

And so I continue in borderline poverty, save for my one indulgence, no, my single absolute necessity: I take cabs. Yes, on occasion, when I wish to see what people with unpleasant skin conditions are wearing, I do take the subway. I have never, I am proud to say, taken the bus, because people who take the bus have given up.

It wasn't this soldier's uniform that affected her, and it wasn't his looks. It was the way he had stared at her from across the street, separated from her by ten meters of concrete, a bus, and the electric wires of the tram line.

God!" he exclaimed. "How insane this is – never to have the time to explain, to talk anything out, never to have a minute –" We've had a minute, Tatiana thought. We had our minutes on the bus. And at Kirov. We had our minutes in Luga. And in the Summer Garden. Breathless minutes, we had. What we want, she thought, keeping herself from welling up, is eternity.