Quotes About Lawn

There were, however, a few exceptions. One was Norma Dodsworth, the poet, who had not unpleasantly drunk but had been sensible enough to pass out before any violent action proved necessary. He had been deposited, not very gently, on the lawn, where it was hoped that a hyena would give him a rude awakening. For all practical purposes he could, therefore, be regarded as absent.

I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden which flanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strange designs girded it round. Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with an old sundial in the middle, the whole effect so soothing and restful that it was welcome to my somewhat jangled nerves.

I was always wild territory buried below manicured lawns and once I had ripped pretty flowers from the careful parts of me unearthed keening once I left the whole damn thing open to the sky I touched a place in me too Wild to ever pull weeds again or water plastic grass again or prop the baby tree with sticks again or call my soul cultivated again I was never going down that way

The doctor was shaving this lawn as if it were a priest's chin. All

Lewis made sure Shaney left with an armload of books, a whole series, to prove to Peta why she'd been there, but the whole time, stacking them up, it felt like an overcorrection, like trying to hide a body on the lawn by covering it with eight other bodies.

The lawn of Placerville High School is a very good one. It does not fuck around.

except sociopaths trying to sell me term insurance, home security, and lawn care.

There was a statue on the lawn outside the institute of a woman, hand on breast, looking mournfully upwards as if contemplating the death of a loved one and the amount of paperwork it was bound to cause.

The thing I love is that my home life hasn't changed. I still help out with the garbage. I still help out with the lawn.

There were neighbors that I played with and did all the things that children do. I did mow the lawn. I did help with various things that needed to be done to occupy my time.

They're a rotten crowd', I shouted across the lawn. 'You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.

Problem three: Our landlords, the Loud Family. This time, they're after Dev's blue blow-up wading pool. They left a message: If there's a yellow circle in the lawn, our security deposit must cover the cost of sodding.

People pooh-pooh Bud. It's an extremely well-made beer. It's clean, it's refreshing. If you're mowing the lawn and you come in and you want something refreshing and thirst-quenching, you wouldn't drink this." She indicates the IPA. Of all the descriptors

Interspersed in lawn and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each others' shades.

The officers of the law in Verbum, a town of six thousand residents, spent untold hours investigating the disappearances of lawn dwarfs.

The moon, like a gardenia in the night's button-hole—but no! why should a writer never be able to mention the moon without likening her to something else—usually something to which she bears not the faintest resemblance?... The moon, looking like nothing whatsoever but herself, was engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark the hours correctly on the sun-dial at the centre of the lawn.

Suburban man falling asleep near his lawn mower, pulling a section of his Sunday paper over his head, thus re-enacts the birth of architecture.

If having a beautiful lawn means putting up warning signs several times a year to keep children and pets off of it, it's probably a good idea to look into alternatives.

Reeducation needs careful tending, like an English lawn. Even one moment of negligence, and the weeds crop up again ~ those indestructible weeds of historical truth.

On even the most modest properties, a good, well-cut lawn became the ideal. For one thing, it was a way of announcing to the world that the householder was prosperous enough that he didn't need to use the space to grow vegetables for his dinner table.

I stepped from the air-conditioned compartment onto the station platform, and the motherly breath of the suburbs enfolded me. It smelt of lawn sprinklers and station wagons and tennis rackets and dogs and babies.

The lawn was white with doctors.

The Hardy home, on the corner of High and Elm streets, was an old stone house set in a large, tree-shaded lawn. Right now, crocuses and miniature narcissi were sticking their heads through the light-green grass.

The terrace and the whole place, the lawn and the garden beyond it, all I could see of the park, were empty with a great emptiness.