Quotes About Highway

For the first few miles the highway ran through a little valley dotted with rocks that seemed to have fallen from the sky. Chunks of granite with no origin or context.

The driver of the tractor-trailer jumped out of his cab.

Sound character provides the power with which a person may ride the emergencies of life instead of being overwhelmed by them. Failure is... the highway to success.

The night was aromatic with the smell of autumn and the steely fragrance of freshly dampened blacktop. How she loved the smell of road: asphalt baking and soft in July, dirt roads with their dust-and-pollen perfume in June, country lanes spicy with the odor of crushed leaves in sober October, the sand-and-salt smell of the highway, so like an estuary, in February.

How she loved the smell of road: asphalt baking and soft in high July, dirt roads with their dust-and-pollen perfume in June, country lanes spicy with the odor of crushed leaves in sober October, the sand-and-salt smell of the highway, so like an estuary, in February.

Dr. Sarvis with his bald mottled dome and savage visage, grim and noble as Sibelius, was out night-riding on a routine neighborhood beautification project, burning billboards along the highway—U.S. 66

My favorite drive is Highway 101 in California between Los Angeles and San Luis Obispo. I love the 101; Highway 1 is too windy, and 5 is too boring - the 101 is just right. It's like the Mama Bear of scenic drives.

On this stretch of highway he was afflicted. It felt as if his heart was being pierced by long sharp needles. He flashed on his father, the two of them sitting in late sunshine, gathering its fugitive warmth.

From the beginning, the highway has always lacked grace-those who worship desert gods know them to favor retribution over the tender dove of forgiveness. In Desolation, doves are at the bottom of the food chain. Tohono O'Odham poet Ofelia Zepeda has pointed out that rosaries and Hail Marys don't work out here. You need a new kind of prayers, she says to negotiate with this land.

The highway of grace will get you somewhere a whole lot faster then the freeway of spite.

Well—that's more like it!" Ross climbed the rest of the way into the cabin and stooped to look over Ashe's shoulder at the miniature screen. "I'd say it's closer to the plans for a demon-inspired highway system," he commented judiciously.

I got back in my car, starting the engine, then drove off. It wasn't until I pulled onto the highway that it all really sunk it, how temporary our friendship had been. We'd been on our breaks, after all, but it wasn't our relationships that were on pause: it was us. Now we were both in motion again, moving ahead. So what if there were questions left unanswered. Life went on. We knew that better than anyone.

The guard rails on a highway may restrict some folks from driving the way they want, but those rules mostly end up saving the lives of those other drivers who understand that living in a society means behaving in a commonly beneficial way.

I've always tried to set some kind of goal. I want to be better than anybody in the banking business, and when I ran the Highway Department in Georgia, I wanted it to be the best in the country. And of course, I have a high sense of public service.

Surrender. That's an interesting term. We tend to see all forms of surrender as negative--war, sports, highway on-ramps. You'd never hear us describing a relationship as a type of surrender. But maybe we should. Is it wrong to cede the solo to the duet. Surrender doesn't mean you lose, only that you no longer wish to fight.

As for pupils, I can have as many as I choose, but I do not choose to take many. I intend to be better paid than others, and so I wish to have fewer scholars. It is advisable to hang back a little at first, or it is all over with you, and you must pursue the common highway with the rest.

I retreated up the highway to a drive-in where I ate a torpedo sandwich.

The big Ford van had been travelling non-stop since the last bathroom break and Travis had no idea how long ago that had been. He knew only that they had finally turned off that boring four-lane highway and that, far in the distance over the trees, the high green bridge over the St. Lawrence River was now visible. Beyond lay New York State and the road to Lake Placid. Finally.

Summer coming like a car from down the highway.

I wasn't there when the old Indian man from Worley said it, but I know it must be true: Every highway in the world crosses some reservation, cuts it in half.

Well, we can ride together for a while longer. The highway south is farther along this way. I'll be glad of some cheerful company." "First time anyone's said that about me," Halt replied.

You see, the Highway to Hell is a toll road. Someone has to pay. And, guess what? It ain't gonna be me.

Jonathan nodded and joined him in watching the lane stripes on the Beltway zoom past. They

Don't do anything quickly, Tag had told him. And whatever you do, don't hit your brakes. You'll end up in the ditch. He caught something in his headlights. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing before his heart took off at a gallop. A car was upside down in the middle of the highway, its headlights shooting out through the falling snow toward the river, the taillights a dim red against the steep canyon wall. The overturned car had the highway completely blocked.