Lanie Heron Quotes

We shouldn't sleep together. Sleeping is bad. Sex is good, sleeping together is something else. ~ Kristen Ashley

Every once in a while, you live long enough to get the respect that people didn't want to give while you were trying to become a senior citizen. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

The woman at the next table is making eyes at you," Lanie said, whispering conspiratorially.

"Really? What does she make them out of? Cloth? ~ M.K. Schiller

Thank god for Vegas. Seriously.
A lobotomy wasn't as effective as a weekend three hours of Red Bull away (from LA, not Pismo) where I wore the thinnest pinned stilettos, gambled like a sweaty degenerate mobster in black loafers, drank like Amy Winehouse and Charles Bukowski's baby, and snorted throat-dripping lines of coke in a Hard Rock Hotel bathroom with four new best friends. I'd giddily rub off any one of those from the to-do list I wrote in eyeliner on my hotel bathroom mirror. ~ Christy Heron

In a shadowy place something white flew up. It was a heron, and it went away over the dark treetops. William Wallace followed it with his eyes and Brucie clapped his hands, but Virgil gave a sigh, as if he knew that when you go looking for what is lost, everything is a sign.
("The Wide Net") ~ Eudora Welty

Our accomplishments show what kind of people we are. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

Do you think they have ice cream here?" Lanie asked.

Kyle cocked his eyebrow, obviously surprised by her question. "I have no idea. Why do you ask?"
"Because I like ice cream when I'm stressed," she replied, thinking she wasn't just stressed. She was burning up and needed something cold.
"I don't mean to cause you anxiety. Don't worry. I'll get you ice cream whether they have it here or not, if that's what you want."

"Wow, Kyle, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she replied with a smile. ~ M.K. Schiller

If you aren't having no fun, die, because you're running a worthless program, far as I'm concerned. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

With Saint Heron, I really wanted to celebrate and continue to cultivate the community for genre-defying R&B artists. ~ Solange Knowles

She had once seen a heron flying across the estuary and trying, while it was on the wing, to swallow an eel which it had caught. The eel, in turn, was struggling to escape from the gullet of the heron and appeared a quarter, a half, or occasionally three-quarters of the way out. The indecision expressed by both creatures was pitiable. They had taken on too much. ~ Penelope Fitzgerald

I will pull on my stockings and go quietly past the bedroom doors, and down through the kitchen, out through the garden past the greenhouse into the field. It is still early morning. The mist is on the marshes. The day is stark and stiff as a linen shroud. But it will soften; it will warm. At this hour, this still early hour, I think I am the field, I am the barn, I am the trees; mine are the flocks of birds, and this young hare who leaps, at the last moment when I step almost on him. Mine is the heron that stretches its vast wings lazily; and the cow that creaks as it pushes one foot before another munching; and the wild, swooping swallow; and the faint red in the sky, and the green when the red fades; the silence and the bell; the call of the man fetching cart-horses from the fields - all are mine. ~ Virginia Woolf

In a snowfall that covers the winter grass a white heron uses his own whiteness to disappear. ~ Dogen

Honey, you need to get laid. (Selena)
Why don't you speak a little louder, Lanie? I don't think the guys in Canada were able to hear you. (Grace)
Oh, I don't know. They're probably headed south even as we speak. (Waiter) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

He wanted a daughter who looked like his wife. His wife had informed him she wanted a son who looked like her husband. God would decide but it was fun arguing about something that meant everything knowing neither of them
really cared which way it went. ~ Kristen Ashley

Fuck me, babe, seriously? You knocked yourself out to make me wild. Why, Lanie? Why the fuck would you pull out all the fuckin' stops to make a man already drunk on you drunker? ~ Kristen Ashley

I would say if you are familiar with our history and the history of our art and literature that you see a clear cut pattern of people wanting to contribute, not only artistically, but in some practical purpose, for the benefits of the community. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

I am not made for despair ~ Lian Hearn

The lesson here is, the way of truth is a very narrow path. Jesus was the Word made flesh. He spoke the Word of truth because He was truth. So when he began to explain to his disciples what had to come to pass in order that man's redemption could be attained, he was speaking God's truth. But when Peter reacted as he did, he was using his five senses and was going directly against the revealed Word of truth. Thus he was stepping off the narrow path and into error. ~ Patrick Heron

I thought that some of my best records was when there wasn't a lot of work being done on it, like 'Winter in America' and 'Secrets' and when there weren't a whole lot of people in the studios. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

I am a black man dedicated to expression; expression of the joy and pride of blackness. I consider myself neither poet, composer, or musician. These are merely tools used by sensitive men to carve out a piece of beauty or truth that they hope may lead to peace and salvation. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

If you learn something that changes you, you've made progress. If you learn something that changes others, you've helped change the world. ~ Lanie Lane

If we meet somebody who has never made a mistake, lets help them start a religion. Until then, were just going to meet other humans and help to make each other better. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

Colour is not the issue in America; class is. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

I don't suspect that in many instances the artists who are dedicated in that fashion to the progress of that community are as well protected by the community as might be necessary. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

Brighter than
That brightest star
You are by far
You come right inside of me
Close as you can be
You kiss my blood
And my blood kiss me ~ Mike Heron

I told you. Time moves differently for everyone; but for everyone, time runs out. Such is the way of things. To die here, at home, is enough for me. ~ Lanie Bross

Inman guessed Swimmer's spells were right in saying a man's spirit could be torn apart and cease and yet his body keep on living. They could take deathblows independently. He was himself a case in point, and perhaps not a rare one, for his spirit, it seemed, had been about burned out of him to fear that the mere existence of the Henry repeating rifle or the éprouvette mortar made all talk of spirit immediately antique. His spirit, he feared, had been blasted away so that he had become lonesome and estranged from all around him as a sad old heron standing pointless watch in the mudflats of a pond lacking frogs. It seemed a poor swap to find that the only way one might keep from fearing death was to act numb and set apart as if dead already, with nothing left of you but a hut of bones. ~ Charles Frazier

You get this drama, babe, you got until the end of Tack's meeting to burn it out, but mark this, Lanie. After that meeting, I don't give a fuck if you're strapped into a rocket to go to the goddamned moon, I'm findin' you, we're sortin' this shit out and we're movin' on," he warned. "I just made a mental note to find a plastic surgeon who does emergency face alterations so you won't know who to look for," I shot back. "Jesus, I'm pissed as all fuck and still she's cute," he groused like he wasn't talking to me but actually complaining to the Son of God. "Jesus works on Sunday, Hop. You want a direct line, time to haul your biker ass to church," I shared. "You want me to let you go so you can burn this out, you better stop bein' cute, lady. You keep bein' cute, I'll kiss you in the goddamn forecourt and I won't give a fuck who sees." I snapped my mouth shut. "That's what I thought," he ~ Kristen Ashley

If you listen to 'The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,' by Gil Scott-Heron, that album is dripping with rage. ~ Henry Rollins

I was a better writer when I was teaching. I was constantly going over the basics and constantly reminding myself, as I reminded my students, what made a good story, a good poem. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

How heron comes It is a negligence of the mind not to notice how at dusk heron comes to the pond and stands there in his death robes, perfect servant of the system, hungry, his eyes full of attention, his wings pure light ~ Mary Oliver

When you see a heron eating an innocent rabbit, what comes to your mind? Do you say 'What a great order God has created?' or you say 'What a devilish horror is going on here!' Question your beliefs! If the strong eats the weak, there is absolutely nothing divine in here, but there is only injustice and nightmare! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Oftentimes, the way it seems to be is that our artists in particular point themselves out as spokesmen for a certain constituency in a community, and thereby place themselves in that vulnerable position. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

Life is Everlasting Fields of Indescribable Love ~ Matthew Heron

Every show that sells out is like a hero's welcome for me. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

It may be crazy, but I'm the closest thing I have to a voice of reason. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

Poem in October"

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could ~ Dylan Thomas

Lynx stood and raced to the camp. "Attend to our injured!" She unsheathed a machete and made for Hare's killer.
Heron grabbed her wrist. "Wait. He's still conscious."
"Then he will feel my machete," she replied, voice like ice. ~ Gwynn White

He was close enough so that I could see his face clearly, even with his helmet's cheek flaps tied tightly under his bearded chin. I looked into the eyes of Hector, prince of Troy. Brown eyes they were, the colour of rich farm soil, calm and deep. No anger, no battle lust. He was a cool and calculating warrior, a thinker among these hordes of wild, screaming brutes. He wore a small round shield buckled to his left arm instead of the massive body-length type most of the other nobles carried. In it was painted a flying heron, a strangely peaceful emblem in the midst of all this mayhem and gore. ~ Ben Bova

You should be able to do anything you can afford as an adult. ~ Gil Scott-Heron

I never know the heron as it flies at first. What is the slow, wide-winged figure in the sky? Then I see it, like a word in a foreign language, like seeing one's own name written in a strange alphabet and recognizing it, I say it: the heron. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

I blaze with a deep sullen magic, smell lust like a heron on fire; all words I form into castles then storm them with soldiers of air. What I seek is not there for asking. My armies are fit and well trained. This poet will trust her battalions to fashion her words into blades. At dawn I shall ask them for beauty, for proof that their training went well. At night I shall beg their forgiveness as I cut their throats by the hill. My navies advance through the language, destroyers ablaze in high seas. I soften the island for landings. With words, I enlist a dark army. My poems are my war with the world. I blaze with a deep southern magic. The bombardiers taxi at noon. There is screaming and grief in the mansions and the moon is a heron on fire. ~ Pat Conroy