Quotes About Porch

Nevertheless, I drove right past my landmark, an antique store which looked to me like an ordinary house with junk piled on the front porch.

Kiss me, babe."' "No, really." Beneath the light of a sixty-watt bulb on her porch, Adele Harris placed a hand on the chest of her latest date. "I've had enough excitement for one night.

My ideal summer day was reading on the porch.

No front porches. My uncle says there used to be front porches. And people sat there sometimes at night, talking when they wanted to talk, rocking, and not talking when they didn't want to talk.

The mosquitos were gone from the porch, and surely when they abandoned the conflict the war with Time was really done, there was nothing for it but that humans also forsake the battleground.

Fooey! The porchlight is burnt out, and I can't see whether it's dark outside or not.

I was sitting on her porch and said: You must be thirsty, would you like to come in? Portraits, miniatures, daguerreotypes, old Aunt This, old Uncle Thus and So. That spiral staircase coming down. And there I was—in my lifeboat. I'd found it. You had to pinch yourself in that house sometimes to remind yourself it wasn't 1909.

Before my mother would give you that dime allowance, she'd want you to do a little chore around the house. Like build a porch.

After a moment I pushed my chair back and went over to the french windows. I opened the screens and stepped out on to the porch. The night was all around, soft and quiet. The white moonlight was cold and clear, like the justice we dream of but don't find.

and the rain blew in under the porch, not as cold as her lips.

The Germans are about to reach Stalingrad, and the gas chambers are heating up, but the Ya-Yas are still in high school, and the life of the porch still surrounds them. They are lazy together. This is comfort. This is joy. Just look at these four. Not one wears a watch. This porch time is not planned. Not penciled into a DayRunner . . .I want to lay up like that, to float unstructured, without ambition or anxiety. I want to inhabit my life like a porch.

Hovington cowered on the porch alternately praying and swearing in a desperate attempt to cover all the bases.

The screen door opened, slapped loudly shut. An enormous woman had come onto the porch, a woman with a fierce turtle like face and wild frizzy carrot colored hair. She was wearing a bright yellow tent size dress with dark half moons of sweat fanning out from the armpits.

On the porch were the still-smoking remains of long-stemmed roses, evidence that someone angry and passive-aggressive didn't know Peter was out of town.

The columns of the Cathedral porch were still supported on featureless porphyry lions worn smooth by generations of loungers; and above the octagonal baptistery ran a fantastic basrelief wherein the spirals of the vine framed an allegory of men and monsters symbolising, in their mysterious conflicts, the ever-recurring Manicheism of the middle ages. Fresh from his talk with Crescenti, Odo lingered curiously

Before getting to my mother's house, I would always think of her on the porch or even on the street, sweeping. She had a light way of sweeping, as if removing the dirt were not as important as moving the broom over the ground. Her way of sweeping was symbolic; so airy, so fragile, with a broom she tried to sweep away all the horrors, all the loneliness, all the misery that had accompanied her all her life...

How about outside?" Rafe whispered. He caught my look and said, "Just on the porch or something." "I think that's where Daniel and Nicole went. I have an idea." I led him upstairs. As I pushed open the door to Daniel's bedroom, I said, "It's a way station not a destination." Rafe chuckled. "Damn.

I looked out of the front porch

I'm happy to feed the squirrels - tree rats with the agility of point guards - but in fair weather, they frighten my finches. They leap from snowbank to porch to feeder and stuff their cheek pouches with chickadee feed.

In summer, I like to sit and compose on the porch, where I can see people come and go.

After several moments of hesitation, Olive nodded and stepped off the porch. Sydney understood my cautious approach and quietly kept her distance. Rose, on the other hand, clearly wanted to come with Olive and me, but I gave her a quick shake of the head. Dimitri rested his hand on her arm to emphasize the point.

It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.

A British porch is a musty, forbidding non-room in which to fling a sodden umbrella or a muddy pair of boots; a guard against the elements and strangers. By contrast the good ol' American front porch seems to stand for positivity and openness; a platform from which to welcome or wave farewell; a place where things of significance could happen.

WHEN AUGUSTUS CAME OUT on the porch the blue pigs were eating a rattlesnake—not a very big one. It had probably just been crawling around looking for shade when it ran into the pigs. They were having a fine tug-of-war with it, and its rattling days were over.