Quotes About Excitement

Ramping a jacked-up hell-quad over a dirge-singing pack of goblins with a burned-to-death stuntman at the wheel. I'm

was suddenly aware, almost in a panic—a joyful panic—of the wealth of possibility out in the world, and also within myself.

Ili je pakao možda jedna soba, jedan krevet i ve?no uzbu?enje i želja, i ja sam bio u njemu, video sam njegovu lepotu, i ako stvari krenu najgorim tokom izdrža?u.

Why do boys always love talking about ghosts and murders and hangings?' 'Because it's exciting,' Wendell said.

Joe had the distinct impression they were getting in deeper than they expected with each turn, almost as if they'd hooked a small fish that had been eaten by a larger fish and was being chased by a giant shark.

Pitt has always looked in the future and found it full of excitement and adventure. In the 1970s he was a man of the '80s. Now he is a man of the '90s. Like a scout out for a wagon train, Pitt looks over the next hill and tells us what's there. He sees what we'd all like to see in our imaginations.

I always knew our first time would be in a carriage. - Sebastian

The Speedwell will carry us to England," John told Sarah for at least the fiftieth time. "Even now the Mayflower is being loaded with supplies and getting ready to meet us at Southampton. Just think. Soon we will be on our way." He searched her face for the excitement that flamed higher and higher inside him.

I had enough electricity in my booty to jump-start the whole of New York City.

could barely contain his

Every new search is a voyage to the Indies, a quest for buried treasure, a journey to the end of the rainbow; and whether or not at the end there shall be turned up a pot of gold or merely a delightful volume, there are always wonders along the way.

The door opens and the tiger leaps.

What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with this extraordinary excitement? It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was.

Oh, I am in love with life!

There is nothing staid, nothing settled, in this universe. All is rippling, all is dancing; all is quickness and triumph.

So I have to create the whole thing afresh for myself each time. Probably all writers now are in the same boat. It is the penalty we pay for breaking with tradition, and the solitude makes the writing more exciting though the being read less so. One ought to sink to the bottom of the sea, probably, and live alone with ones words.

What a lark! What a plunge!

The vision of her own personality, of herself as a real everlasting thing, different from anything else, unmergeable, like the sea or the wind, flashed into Rachel's mind, and she became profoundly excited at the thought of living.

But she could not reduce her vision to words, since it was no single shape coloured upon the dark, but rather a general excitement, an atmosphere, which, when she tried to visualize it, took form as a wind scouring the flanks of the northern hills and flashing light upon cornfields and pools.

What one means by integrity, in the case of the novelist, is the conviction that he gives one that this is the truth. . . . When one so exposes it [integrity] and sees it come to life one exclaims in rapture, But this is what I have always felt and known and desired! And one boils over with excitement, and, shutting the book even with a kind of reverence as if it were something very precious, a stand-by to return to as long as one lives, one puts it back on the shelf.

It is so beautiful, so exciting, this love, that I tremble on the verge of it, and offer, quite out of my own habit, to look for a brooch on a beach; also it is the stupidest, the most barbaric of human passions, and turns a nice young man with a profile like a gem's (Paul's was exquisite) into a bully with a crowbar (he was swaggering, he was insolent) in the Mile End Road.

Straightening himself and stealthily fingering his pocket-knife he started after her to follow this woman, this excitement, which seemed even with its back turned to shed on him a light which connected them, which singled him out, as if the random uproar of the traffic had whispered through hallowed hands his name, not Peter, but his private name which he called himself in his own thoughts.

I will come,' said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement? It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was.

Well, how was she going to defend herself? Now that she knew what it was, she felt perfectly happy. They thought, or Peter at any rate thought, that she enjoyed imposing herself; liked to have famous people about her; great names; was simply a snob in short. Well, Peter might think so. Richard merely thought it foolish of her to like excitement when she knew it was bad for her heart. It was childish, he thought. And both were quite wrong. What she liked was simply life.