Quotes About Alley

Stray cattle roam every lane and alley, but we are building cow shelters and trying to resolve the problem.

On my block, we grew up like family. Summer times, man, psshh, we in the back in the alley or in the front on the block. Somebody has some music playing, and nine times out of ten, it's soul music. We got whatever we drinking that day, we got some food, we probably even grilling. It's just a good time.

There are things I like about fancy Southern food and there are things I really love from just down-home Southern cooking. So mixing those two together would probably be right up my alley.

I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.

Really? Risa said, disgusted. 'What do we have here?' Is that your best line? If you're going to attack a defenseless girl in an alley, at least try not to be cliché about it.

corner into the Vicolo del Fiori. He faced four tall men dressed as gladiators, shoulder to shoulder, and at once he knew that something was wrong. "Stop

He's what, in my alley days in Dublin, we would have called a fug — cross between a fuck and a pug. Lots of mouth and no balls.

Holy Christ! There was a frickin' melee in the alley. Lessers. Brothers. Two civilians crouched and quivering in the middle. And big bad Butch O'Neal.

Carlo's basement apartment was on Grant Street in an old red-brick rooming house near a church. You went down an alley, down some stone steps, opened an old raw door, and went through a kind of cellar till you came to his board door. It was like the room of a Russian saint: one bed, a candle burning, stone walls that oozed moisture, and a crazy makeshift ikon of some kind that he had made. He read me his poetry.

wings—-vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.

Just like an alley in New York -like every alley in the world, apparently- it smelled like cat pee.

Olli punched in with the cymbal-whack of her typewriter by the alley-side window while a happy neon sign six stories down flashing Hobart and Sons' Fine Smokables got its purple light all tangled up in her eyelashes.

Shopping tip: You can get shoes for 85 cents at the bowling alley.

I think we are in rats' alley Where the dead men lost their bones.

We believe Slobodan Milosevic must be buried in his country, in Belgrade, at the Alley of Great Men.

The music whirled and flirted with the air, spinning like snowflakes in an alley.

Shopping tip: You can get shoes for 85¢ at the bowling alley.

The last bartender I called had picked me up out of an alley behind a B-girl joint in Lafayette's old Underpass area, a one-block collection of buildings that was so stark and unrelieved, whose inhabitants were so lost and disconnected from the normal world, that if you found yourself drinking there, you could rest assured you had finally achieved the goal you long ago set for yourself: the total destruction of the innocent child who once lived inside you.

They had a pretty decent hideout, too. It was a three-walled alcove in the parking lot, meant to shield two dumpsters from view. Anyone inside the school wouldn't have been able to spot them. But from there in the alley, I had a clear sight line. I stepped back and radioed Keats. "This is Hoot," I said. "I found her. She's with some friends in the parking area on the south side of the building." Some

He reminded me now, sharply, that one of my partners had been killed on the street and that only months ago, Jacobi and I had both been shot in a desolate alley in the Tenderloin. It was true. We'd both nearly died.

The fairy had flown over to the window and was peering curiously out at the alley. Forget it. Stay here, said Dustfinger. Please. Believe me, it's no place for you out there. She looked at him quizzically, then folded her wings and knelt on the windowsill. And there she stayed, as if she coudln't decide between the hot room and the strange freedom to be found outside.

An expression crept over Asher's face that was not unlike that of a lonely child being told that Santa had not in fact been strangled to death in an alley in New Orleans

I cut my eyes to the alley. Ranger was still there, doubled over the steering wheel, shaking with laughter.

Italians are fantastic people, really. They can work you over in an alley while singing an opera.