Hurly Burly Quotes

I enjoyed the discipline and solitariness of long-distance running, which allowed me to escape from the hurly-burly of school life. ~ Nelson Mandela

If we are capable of recognizing that the highlights of our destiny can be found in the spell of a happy moment, we needn't worry all the time about the hurly-burly of the future. ("Lost dreams") ~ Erik Pevernagie

This apparent hurly-burly and disorder turn out, after all, to reproduce real life with its fantastic ways more accurately than the most carefully studied out drama of manners. Every man is in himself all humanity, and if he writes what occurs to him he succeeds better than if he copies, with the help of a magnifying glass, objects placed outside of him. ~ Theophile Gautier

The Queue consists entirely of fragments of ochered' dialogue, a linguistic vernacular anchored by the long-suffering word stoyat' (to stand). You stood? Yes, stood. Three hours. Got damaged ones. Wrong size. Here's what the line wasn't: a gray inert nowhere. Imagine instead an all-Soviet public square, a hurly-burly where comrades traded gossip and insults, caught up with news left out of the newspapers, got into fistfights, or enacted comradely feats. In the thirties the NKVD had informers in queues to assess public moods, hurrying the intelligence straight to Stalin's brooding desk. Lines shaped opinions and bred ad hoc communities: citizens from all walks of life standing, united by probably the only truly collective authentic Soviet emotions: yearning and discontent (not to forget the unifying hostility toward war veterans and pregnant women, honored comrades allowed to get goods without a wait). ~ Anya Von Bremzen

Go to the mountains and meditate! If you stay in the hurly-burly of this world, you'll run around in circles without ever finding your way. You'll become the kind of person who just stamps and screams. But the blue mountains are immovable and the white clouds come and go. ~ Takashi Nagai

Throw yourself into the hurly-burly of life. It doesn't matter how many mistakes you make, what unhappiness you have to undergo. It is all your material ... Don't wait for experience to come to you; go out after experience. Experience is your material. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

Oh, those lapses, darling. So many of us walk around letting fly with "errors." We could do better, but we're so slovenly, so rushed amid the hurly-burly of modern life, so imprinted by the "let it all hang out" ethos of the sixties, that we don't bother to observe the "rules" of "correct" grammar.

To a linguist, if I may share, these "rules" occupy the exact same place as the notion of astrology, alchemy, and medicine being based on the four humors. The "rules" make no logical sense in terms of the history of our language, or what languages around the world are like.

Nota bene: linguists savor articulateness in speech and fine composition in writing as much as anyone else. Our position is not - I repeat, not - that we should chuck standards of graceful composition. All of us are agreed that there is usefulness in a standard variety of a language, whose artful and effective usage requires tutelage. No argument there.

The argument is about what constitutes artful and effective usage. Quite a few notions that get around out there have nothing to do with grace or clarity, and are just based on misconceptions about how languages work.

Yet, in my experience, to try to get these things across to laymen often results in the person's verging on anger. There is a sense that these "rules" just must be right, and that linguists' purported expertise on language must be somehow flawed on this score. We are, it is said, permissive - perhaps a ~ John McWhorter

Although she had a slight build, Eilidh was solid and heavier than she first appeared. Rather than throw her over his shoulder, he tried to carry her as though propping up a drunken friend. People would accept the latter without question, but a burly guy carrying a woman fireman-style? That might draw second looks. ~ India Drummond

Halloo down there," the voice said. Ziba saw a burly soldier in armor standing at the edge of the cliff. "Are you Israelites?"
"We are," Jonathan said.
"We thought all of the Israelites were still hiding in the caves." Ziba heard others laughing and could tell that they had been drinking. "We have plenty of wine here if you want to come join us. We even have some of your countrymen who are now in our army."
"If we come up there, it will be only to fight and kill you," Jonathan said.
The Philistine laughed. "Well, then, come on up. It's plenty boring up here. Maybe you can liven things up, small as you are."
Jonathan looked at Ziba, who then nodded.
"We'll be right up," Jonathan shouted back. ~ Glen Robinson

The burly woodsman who attaks the diminutive pine of the east must experience remorse, as would a strong man who made war upon a boy, but [the Redwood] is something to compel his respect; he must feel that in grappling with these monsters he is doing the work of a Hercules. ~ Jared Farmer

She held the paper in her hand for a long time, trying to follow the reasoning by which that thin ragged boy had become in the eyes of a reporter a 'burly Negro.' And she decided that it all depended on where you sat how these things looked. If you looked at them from inside the framework of a fat weekly salary, and you thought of colored people as naturally criminal, then you didn't really see what any Negro looked like. You couldn't because the Negro was never an individual. He was a threat, or an animal, or a curse, or a blight, or a joke. ~ Ann Petry

The very first email I got [was] from a women's group saying 'We don't want this stimulus package to just create jobs for burly men.' ~ Christina Romer

Newton's laws specifically state that, while the gravity of a planet gets weaker and weaker the farthest from it you travel, there is no distance where the force of gravity reaches zero. The planet Jupiter, with its mighty gravitational field, bats out of harm's way many comets that would otherwise wreak havoc on the inner solar system. Jupiter acts as a gravitational shield for Earth, a burly big brother, allowing long (hundred-million-year) stretches of relative peace and quiet on Earth. Without Jupiter's protection, complex life would have a hard time becoming interestingly complex, always living at risk of extinction from a devastating impact. ~ Neil DeGrasse Tyson

I made a circular motion with my finger around my temple to indicate I thought this guy was crazy, forgetting that there was no one in the room to see this circular motion except him. He saw it and frowned. ~ John Swartzwelder

You're probably good at taking lip, aren't you?" I mutter more to myself than to my bodyguard, clawing through the suitcase for a T-shirt that isn't tight on me. "Like a CIA operative, right? Do bodyguards go to bodyguard school? Are you like the hitman in Hitman?"

He adjusts his cuffs. "You know the rule about fight club?"

I give him a surprised look. "So you can talk!"

He raises a single eyebrow. "I will be right outside your door if you need me. You have to be down at the lot in twenty minutes. I suggest you hurry." Then he takes his burly frame and saunters out of the room.

I shove my head into a clean shirt and pull my arms through just as my phone blips.

There's a message. Well, two messages.

Gail 8:36 AM

- HIS NAME IS LONNY. BE NICE.

"Lonny?" That name definitely is not fit for a three-hundred-pound machine of total annihilation, but okay ~ Ashley Poston

Closer, drüskelle," she crooned, taunting.

He threw an arm over her, hooking her back against his chest. She let out a startled oof and shifted uneasily.

"Stop moving," he muttered. He'd been close to girls - not many, it was true - but none of them had been like her. She was indecently round.

"You're cold and clammy," she complained with a shiver. "It's like lying next to a burly squid."

"You told me to get closer! ~ Leigh Bardugo

The burly soldier looked up with a smirk from the monitors. "Personal protection, huh? ~ J.M. Madden

They paid the deposit immediately and appeared to be good tenants although they were reluctant to invite him over the threshold once they had moved in. "There is no need for you to come in," he had been told by a burly Russian who answered the door when he had called to see whether all was well. "There is nothing wrong. Everything functions. We are very happy. Goodbye. ~ Alexander McCall Smith

Judd returned during the last hour of my Friday shift. Without seeing him coming as I wiped a table, I knew something was up because two large burly men flinched.
Turning, I found Judd moving fast towards me. Before I could speak, his hands cupped my face and his lips were on mine.
Murmuring at the deepening kiss, I tossed aside the wash towel and wrapped my arms around his waist. He felt like perfection.
Judd pulled away and stated to speak then his gaze focused on the two men watching us and smiling. His dark stare killed their enthusiasm and they returned to eating.
"Back less than a minute and you're already losing me tips," I teased, causing Judd to smile grudging. "You taste like peppermint."
"I slept for shit and chewing gum keeps me alert."
Caressing his lips, I couldn't stop grinning. "You're so fucking beautiful and you're mine. How did that happen?"
Judd finally gave me a great smile. "I laid eyed on you and was done for. ~ Bijou Hunter

And the old ones were burly people, as strong as bears or wolverines. One of Thorn's stories told how an old one had married a bear by mistake, and neither of them had noticed; their daughter told them about it years later, not at all pleased with them. ~ Kim Stanley Robinson

He was drunk upon the average once a day, and penitent upon an equally fair calculation once a month; and when he was penitent, he was invariably in the very last stage of maudlin intoxication. He was a ragged, roving, roaring kind of fellow, with a burly form, a sharp wit, and a ready head, and could turn his hand to anything when he chose to do it. ~ Charles Dickens

LaHill was a dark, burly fellow whose hair curled out of his clothes wherever it could. ~ Philip Roth

Okay. So, apparently I find burly Indian men attractive. What's wrong with that? ~ Colleen Houck

I told my brothers what happened. Are you ready to come meet them?"
She straightened. "Aye."
"I warn you," he teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. "They're big, burly bampots. ~ Lisa Carlisle

He pushed his way between them with his burly frame and forced her to stand in the cold with him. He flipped the long, silver dagger so its worn handle faced her. "Take your claw, pup," he growled.
This was called White Fang, a blade almost as legendary as the hunter who owned it. It has been long told in the village that as a youth, Wolfsbane had destroyed an entire pack on his own, thus earning his name. ~ Jennifer Silverwood

I try to maintain a positive attitude at all times, because clients notice little things like that, and if you're frowning and crying all the time and saying "why? why?", they get worried. ~ John Swartzwelder

Ah, fortune and fame shall follow me ... and I shall dwell in the world of the chosen for a few moments of fleeting ecstasy; ere the seven burly lads turn into creditors and hustle me off to debtors' prison at last. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Look," Cam said irritably, "I'm here on behalf of Lord Ramsay's family. They want him back. God knows why. Give him to me, and I'll leave you in peace."
"If they want him," the butler said frostily, "let them send a proper servant. Not a filthy Gypsy."
Cam rubbed the corners of his eyes with his free hand and sighed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Frankly, I'd rather not go through unnecessary exertion. All I ask is that you allow me five minutes to find the bastard and take him off your hands."
"Begone with you!"
After another foiled attempt to close the door, the butler reached for a silver bell on the hall table. A few seconds later, two burly footmen appeared.
"Show this vermin out at once," the butler commanded.
Cam removed his coat and tossed it onto one of the built-in benches lining the entrance hall.
The first footman charged him. In a few practiced movements, Cam landed a right cross on his jaw, flipped him, and sent him to a groaning heap on the floor.
The second footman approached Cam with considerably more caution than the first.
"Which is your dominant arm?" Cam asked.
The footman looked startled. "Why do you want to know?"
"I'd prefer to break the one you don't use as often."
The footman's eyes bulged, and he retreated, giving the butler a pleading glance.
The butler glared at Cam. "You have five minutes. Retrieve your master and go."
"Ramsay isn't my master," Cam ~ Lisa Kleypas

And so it came to pass that i was strapped to a gurney and covered in raw liver and slabs of beef that very quickly turned rancid under the bright spotlights. there exists a videotape somewhere that documents me being wheeled about the dance floor by two burly "orderlies," while i desperately search for a bathroom big enough to accommodate the stretcher so i can do a bump of cocaine. watching me retch from the decomposing meat, and simultaneously fiend for drugs, makes for an entertaining time, indeed.
when i told my mother the extremes i went to in order to make a living, she just shook her head and said, "now don't you wish you'd finished college, dear?"
mothers are so wise, sometimes. ~ James St. James

I know that everyone in this room, Bernie Fain included, thinks I'm some kind of a nut with my so-called fixation on this vampire thing. OK, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he only thinks he is. But there are things here that can't be explained away by so-called common sense. Not even Bernie's report can explain some of them.

'I was at the hospital yesterday.' I looked directly at Butcher. 'Your own people fired maybe fifty or sixty rounds at him, some at point-blank range. How come this man never even slowed down? How come a man seventy years old can outrun police cars for more than fifteen blocks? How come when he gets clubbed on the head he doesn't bleed like other people? Look at these photos! There's a gash on his forehead... and whatever is trickling down from the cut is clear... it isn't blood.

'How come three great, big, burly hospital orderlies weighing an estimated total of nearly seven-hundred fifty pounds couldn't bring one, skinny one-hundred sixty pound man to his knees? How come an ex-boxer, a light-heavyweight not long out of the ring, couldn't even faze him with his best punch, a right hook that should have broken his jaw?

'Face it. Whether it's science, witchcraft or black magic, this character has got something going for him you don't know anything about. He doesn't seem to feel pain. Or get winded. And he doesn't seem to be very frightened by guns, or discouraged by your efforts to trap him.

'Look at these photos! Look ~ Jeff Rice

One man who could understand it very well was the architect of these stop-gap measures: General the Viscount Gort, Commander-in-Chief of the British Expeditionary Force. A big burly man of 53, Lord Gort was no strategist - he was happy to follow the French lead on such matters - but he had certain soldierly virtues that came in handy at a time like this. He was a great fighter - had won the Victoria Cross storming the Hindenburg Line in 1918 - and he was completely unflappable. ~ Walter Lord

As I followed the chief waiter with my eyes, I could not help thinking that the garden in which he had gradually blown to be the flower he was, was an arduous place to rise in. It had such a prescriptive, stiff-necked, long-established, solemn, elderly air. I glanced about the room, which had had its sanded floor sanded, no doubt, in exactly the same manner when the chief waiter was a boy - if he ever was a boy, which appeared improbable; and at the shining tables, where I saw myself reflected, in unruffled depths of old mahogany; and at the lamps, without a flaw in their trimming or cleaning; and at the comfortable green curtains, with their pure brass rods, snugly enclosing the boxes; and at the two large coal fires, brightly burning; and at the rows of decanters, burly as if with the consciousness of pipes of expensive old port wine below; and both England and the law appeared to me to be very difficult indeed to be taken by storm. ~ Charles Dickens

Tell me more," I said. "Tell me anything. What's the meaning of life?"
He let out a big, burly laugh.
"You thought you'd stump me with that one, didn't you? It's actually very simple. The purpose of life is to find your way back to a spiritual way of thinking and living-to be able to get past the physical stuff. That's pretty much the whole test. And every soul is given talents and strengths to help them along the way."
"That's it?"
He snickered at my bug-eyed response.
"It's much harder than it sounds." He looked up at the clock now. "Ten more minutes, little one. What else you got for me? ~ Wendy Higgins

The next day, a dead turtle was left on my doorstep as a warning. I couldn't figure out as a warning for what, and I guess whoever was watching me picked up on that, because the next morning there was another dead turtle, but this one had several sheets of paper glued to it's back leg. The pieces of paper contained a long footnoted explanation of all the symbolism involved. It didn't make a lot of sense to me. The turtle was the "turtle of inquisitiveness" and the cheese smeared on it's shell meant something, and the little cowboy boots on its feet meant something. Everything about this animal meant something apparently to whoever sent it. I still didn't get what it was all about. The next morning there was no turtle. Somebody just shot at me from the bushes. ~ John Swartzwelder

Well, I haven't heard from you since you went to pick up the treadmill so I am assuming some big, burly, longshoreman has absconded with you and I'll never see you again. And you didn't even get to run on your treadmill! ~ Debbie Grant

Horace, hands on hips, paced around the circle, frowning as he studied them. They were a scruffy bunch, he thought, and none too clean. Their hair and beards were overlong and often gathered in rough and greasy plaits, like Nils's. There were scars and broken noses and cauliflower ears in abundance, as well as the widest assortment of rough tattoos, most of which looked as if they had been carved into the skin with the point of a dagger, after which dye was rubbed into the cut. There were grinning skulls, snakes, wolf heads and strange northern runes. All of the men were burly and thickset. Most had bellies on them that suggested they might be overfond of ale. All in all they were as untidy, rank smelling and rough tongued a bunch of pirates as one could be unlucky enough to run into. Horace turned to Will and his frown faded. 'They're beautiful,' he said. ~ John Flanagan

I attempt to surf. I'm not as good as anyone else in the water. I'm more like a beached whale. I just hang out on my board. I can ride, but I get too nervous unless I go with my boyfriend or my trainer. There are too many burly men out there! ~ Olesya Rulin

I need a bodyguard."
Simon eyed him. "Have you been watching The Bodyguard? Because I am not going to fall in love with you and carry you around in my burly arms. ~ Cassandra Clare

The black hole of the galaxy swallows the boiling energy of human fury. Soon my waning fume will be obscured forevermore, all insignia of my ionized essence tucked into the anonymous pleat of the universe's billowing skirt. Until the coarse earth's rank mustiness calls for me, can I take comfort living purposefully in the rhythms of an ordinarily life? Can I unabashedly absorb the scintillating jewels in the daily milieu? Can I savor an array of pleasantries with my tongue, ears, nose, eyes, lips, and fingertips? Can I take solace in the tenderness of the nights by singing out songs of love and heartache? Can I devote the dazzle of daylight and the vastness of the night's starriness to investigate life, make a concerted effort to reduce imbedded ignorance, and penetrate layers of obdurate obliviousness? Can I conduct a rigorous search for wisdom irrespective of wherever this journey takes me? Can I make use of the burly pack of prior personal experiences to increase self-awareness? Can I aspire to go forward in good spirits and cheerfully accept all challenges as they come? Can I skim along the delicate surface of life with a light heart until greeting an endless sleep with a begrudging grin in the coolness of the ebbing light? ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

Big, burly Harley with the heart of an angel, soul of a teddy bear, and Sue with her backbone of titanium, spiked with rusty nails, ready to take on any threat to those close to her. ~ Amy E. Reichert

As he reached for his Visa card, the security monitor next to the register caught Billy in all his glory: football burly but slump-shouldered, his pale face with its exhaustion-starred eyes topped with half a pitchfork's worth of prematurely graying hair. He was only forty-two, but that crushed-cellophane gaze of his combined with a world-class insomniac's posture had once gotten him into a movie at a senior citizen's discount. ~ Richard Price