Looking Over The Edge Quotes

You never think you're on the verge of disaster while you're looking over the edge yourself. It's your friends and family who are trying to get you to stop destroying yourself and after a while it kind of sank in and I just cleaned up my act. ~ Johnny Depp

You must love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your work, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it well, and not be always saying, There's this and there's that - if I had this or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a man is - I wouldn't give twopence for him' - here Caleb's mouth looked bitter, and he snapped his fingers - 'whether he was the prime minister or the rick-thatcher, if he didn't do well what he undertook to do. ~ George Eliot

You must be sure of two things: you must love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. ~ George Eliot

Stepping out wholly dependent on God to come through, stepping away from what is secure and comfortable exposes the holes in our faith. And then if God comes through, it expands our faith. Something about stepping off cliffs where God leads allows God the opportunity to move in greater ways. When we step off and he shows up, we see him differently than we would if we were standing safely looking over the edge. ~ Jennie Allen

I see two lovers looking over the edge of the cauldron of hell. Are they contemplating a double suicide? This means their love will end in hell.' I couldn't stop laughing. ~ Banana Yoshimoto

I used to belong to a family unit, with a foster mom and dad and my little sister, Bean, but that's over and I don't want to talk about what happened , or how unfair it was. Not yet. The less said about that the better, because if there's one thing I learned from Ryter it's that you can't always be looking backward or something will hit you from the front. ~ Rodman Philbrick

Parmida had never believed in unicorns, not until a stroll through the forests of Sunneth Dol convinced her otherwise. She was a young human woman living in a world where magick was dead and magickal creatures a myth. Elves and fae and magickal beasts had long ago shed their skin and left their bones. It was a world where humans alone now existed, walking in the dark of night, always looking over their shoulder for their inevitable extinction, as if nature were waiting to absorb them next back into her soil. ~ Ash Gray

Roan studied the photo in his hand. Shiloh Gallagher
had to be twenty-nine years old according to what Maud
had told him. Damned if she didn't look twenty-five or so,
her features unlined. She wasn't model pretty, but she had
an arresting face, with huge intelligent-looking green eyes.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and he felt himself stir. Her
mouth would make any man go crazy. Her upper lip was
full, but thinner than her lower one. The shape of her mouth
made him feel heat in his lower body. "Is she married?"

"No," Maud said. She's single. Never did marry. I don't know why. Shiloh's
a beautiful girl."

She was hardly a girl, but Roan said nothing because he
was fully reacting to her as a woman. He wondered if she
was curvy or rail thin. He was disgruntled over his avid
curiosity. "I have no problem with it. You know I get up
early and come in late. She's going to have to fend for herself.
I'm not cooking for her."

"Right," Maud agreed. "She's pretty shaken up, Roan.
You might find that stressful until, hopefully, Shiloh will
start to relax."

Shrugging, he slid the photo onto the desk. "Maud, I just
hope I don't stress her out with my award-winning personality,"
he said, and he cracked a small, sour grin.

Maud cackled. "I think you'll like her, Roan. She's a
very kind person. An introvert like you. Just remembe ~ Lindsay McKenna

Things like taking a few dollars out of a paycheck, putting it into savings, and leaving it there. Or doing a few minutes of exercise every day - and not skipping it. Or reading ten pages of an inspiring, educational, life-changing book every day. Or taking a moment to tell someone how much you appreciate them, and doing that consistently, every day, for months and years. Little things that seem insignificant in the doing, yet when compounded over time yield very big results. You could call these "little virtues" or "success habits." I call them simple daily disciplines. Simple productive actions, repeated consistently over time. That, in a nutshell, is the slight edge. ~ Jeff Olson

This is a story of almost unimaginable tragedy. Indigenous people looking back on five centuries since the European invasion began to know what comes after the end of the world. Their ancestors' lives and culture were ended due to war, disease, and starvation. The impact of colonization continues to influence Indigenous peoples' lives. Over the past several hundred years, their lands, resources, and livelihoods have been taken away or destroyed. With few ways to make a living and to feel purpose and a connection to the world at large, they struggle to create thriving and healthy communities. ~ Eldon Yellowhorn

I turned on VH1 this morning just to get a little warm-up before I came over here, and I think it's just terrific. There's so much great stuff: diverse and wonderful music, good performances, great looking girls, great videos, the whole thing. ~ Debbie Harry

From this height, you have as much chance of hitting her as him," Lanor objected.
"I'm not going to throw it from here." Aedan's voice was shaking now. Both men looked at him, confused. "You said our chance might be small," he said to Lanor, "but what about her? I promised not to abandon her, and I won't." He looked at the river. The canoe was approaching the mark.
"No Aedan," Lanor said, stepping forward and reaching out with a big hand. "You won't make it. I won't let you –" But Aedan was too quick for him. With a deep breath, he clenched his jaw, slipped around Lanor and sprinted at the edge. Moonlight made it more difficult to be completely sure-footed over the broken ground. A mistake now would rob him of the speed he needed to carry him over the rocks. Instinct dug its claws in and willed him to stop. He felt sick. He didn't want to do this. But he drove himself on. Fear surged as the edge rushed forward. He placed his final step. His stomach twisted. Then he leapt. ~ Jonathan Renshaw

I sighed. "Actually, Mom, we argue pretty regularly."
"What?" She gaped at me. "Well, stop it!"
"Oh, and I kneed him in the groin once."
There was a split second of silence before May barked a laugh. She covered her mouth and tried to stop it, but it kept coming out in awkward, squeaky sounds. Dad's lips were pressed together, but I could tell he was on the verge of losing it himself.
Mom was paler then snow.
"America, tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't assault the prince."
I don't know why, but the word assault pushed us all on the edge; and May, Dad, and I bent over laughing as Mom stared at us.
"Sorry, Mom," I managed.
"Oh, good lord." She suddenly seemed very excited in meeting Marlee's parents, and I didn't stop her from going. ~ Kiera Cass

You Have Happened To Me

Like the first blossom of the spring and the first drizzle of the rain,
You have happened to me.

With that sudden smile, very close to mine,
You have happened to me.

When I was at lowest aura, with tears on edge of my eyes,
You have happened to me.

When I have least expected, in that depth of our talks, out of my knowledge,
You have happened to me.

Somewhere in those loud laughs and gathering some smoky puffs,
You have happened to me.

Without the fear of world, got tied up with just one knurled,
You have happened to me.

In the most beautiful way I could ever imagine, while getting my self lagin,
You have happened to me.

I don't know if that's a blessing or a miracle then,
How you have happened to me?

I am still surprised with those shiny sparks in my eyes,
You have happened to me.

Talking about having the happy time, you became the reason of my smile,
You have happened to me.

In those long waits and running behind your fast steps,
You have happened to me.

Around your long advices, rolling my eyes while trying to believe in them,
You have happened to me.

The warmth of tea I have sipped next to you, melted my heart for you and
You have happened to me.

Over those answers of my every question, and the way my heart felt so freshen,
Yo ~ Trushti Raval

When I was in middle school, I tried to impress this girl by jumping over this ledge on a scooter. I caught the edge of the ledge and totally fell right in front of her. I never talked to her again. So [my advice is], take it easy if you have a school crush! ~ Kevin Jonas

Little gusts of sunshine blew, strangely bright, and lit up the celandines at the wood's edge, under the hazel-rods, they spangled out bright and yellow. And the wood was still, stiller, but yet gusty with crossing sun. The first windflowers were out, and all the wood seemed pale with the pallor of endless little anemones, sprinkling the shaken floor. 'The world has grown pale with thy breath.' But it was the breath of Persephone, this time; she came out of hell on a cold morning. Cold breaths of wind came, and overhead there was an anger of entangled wind caught among the twigs. It, too, was caught and trying to tear itself free, the wind, like Absalom. How cold the anemones looked, bobbing their naked white shoulders over crinoline skirts of green. But they stood it. A few first bleached little primroses too, by the path, and yellow buds unfolding themselves. ~ D.H. Lawrence

He commences to laugh. Nobody can tell exactly why he laughs; there's nothing funny going on. But it's not the way that Public Relation laughs, it's free and loud and it comes out of his wide grinning mouth and spreads in rings bigger and bigger till it's lapping against the walls all over the ward. Not like that fat Public Relation laugh. This sounds real. I realize all of a sudden it's the first laugh I've heard in years. He stands looking at us, rocking back in his boots, and he laughs and laughs. He laces his fingers ~ Ken Kesey

So you are lean and mean and resourceful and you continue to walk on the edge of the precipice because over the years you have become fascinated by how close you can walk without losing your balance. ~ Richard M. Nixon

Every generation confronts the task of choosing its past. Inheritances are chosen as much as they are passed on. The past depends less on 'what happened then' than on the desires and discontents of the present. Strivings and failures shape the stories we tell. What we recall has as much to do with the terrible things we hope to avoid as with the good life for which we yearn. But when does one decide to stop looking to the past and instead conceive of a new order? When is it time to dream of another country or to embrace other strangers as allies or to make an opening, an overture, where there is none? When is it clear that the old life is over, a new one has begun, and there is no looking back? From the holding cell was it possible to see beyond the end of the world and to imagine living and breathing again? ~ Saidiya V. Hartman

When the laughing stops, we're looking out at the farm, over Valley Drive, up those craggy mountains and the biggest, starriest sky I have ever seen. I bet that someday, when someone says the words New Mexico, this will be the image in my mind. This night. This sky. And Wendy. ~ Patrick Flores-Scott

Billy sipped the last of his coffee from the mug and shut down his laptop. 1,000 words wasn't great but it also wasn't as bad as no words at all. It hadn't exactly been a great couple of years and the royalties from his first few books were only going to hold out so much longer. Even if he didn't have anything else to worry about there was always Sara to consider. Sara with her big blue eyes so like her mother's.
He sat for a moment longer thinking about his daughter and all they'd been through since Wendy had passed. Then he picked up his mug with a long sigh and carried it to the kitchen to rinse it in the sink.
When he came back into his little living room and the quiet of 1 AM he wasn't surprised to find her there over to the side of the bookshelf hovering close to the floor just beyond the couch.
Wendy.
Her eyes were cold and intense in death, angry and spiteful in a way he'd never seen them when she was alive. What once had been beautiful was now a horror and a threat, one that he'd known far too well in the years since she'd died. He and Sara both.
He stood where he was looking at her as she glared up at him. Part of her smaller vantage point was caused by kneeling next to the shelf but he knew from the many times she'd walked or run through a room that death had also reduced her, made her no higher than 4 or 4 and half feet when she'd been 6 in life. She was like a child trapped there on the cusp between youth and coming adulthood. Crushe ~ Amanda M. Lyons

Wasn't that the way of the outlaw after all? Why the fuck should Stitch be constrained by rules? Wasn't lack of them what he loved about the biker lifestyle in the first place? Some arrangements made sense: don't rat, have your brothers' back, don't mess with another guy's bike, but cocksucking, ass-fucking? Why the fuck would anyone in the MC care whom he fucked? Because someone believed it's disgusting? Hell, he thought Freddy puking all over the pool table was disgusting, and no one kicked him out.
"Fuck the rules." Stitch bit his lip, looking down and already awaiting those skilled lips ~ K.A. Merikan

But when I played Woodstock, I'll never forget that moment looking out over the hundreds of thousands of people, the sea of humanity, seeing all those people united in such a unique way. It just touched me in a way that I'll never forget. ~ Edgar Winter

All over Atlanta that fall, in the blue twilights, girls came clicking home from their jobs in their clunky heels and miniskirts and opened their apartment windows to the winesap air, and got out ice cubes, and put on Petula Clark singing 'Downtown', and sat down to wait.
Soon the young men would come, drifting out of their bachelor apartments in Bermuda shorts and Topsiders, carrying beers and gin and tonics, looking for a refill and a a date and the keeping of promises that hung in the bronze air like fruit on the eve of ripeness. ~ Anne Rivers Siddons

And Ren cracked open a jewelry box.
Two strands of tiny beads wound around each other in gold and blue. Small diamond and sapphire flowers ran down the length of the chain and in the center hung a diamond lotus flower with a ruby center. I pressed trembling fingertips to my lips as I recognized Kishan's ring reworked into a new form.......
I turned back to him and as he touched the beads along the edge, he spoke quietly, "Gold and blue tiger's eyes to remember what was found." His finger trailed down to the lotus ruby in the center. "A diamond lotus and red ruby to remember what was lost". He slid two fingers up the length of the chain over the dozens of tiny blue flowers. "And sapphire flowers that symbolize what will be. ~ Colleen Houck

She watched beneath her lashes as his chair rocked with his weight. MacLean scowled and grabbed the edge of the table. Angus had cut varying lengths from each chair so that some rocked, while others were at a distinct forward slant so that you had to press back to keep from sliding into the floor.
"Is something wrong, Lord MacLean?"
"This chair." He scooted forward and slipped a little. With a scowl, he stood and pushed his chair to one side, selecting another.
"Lord MacLean-"
"Dougal," he said firmly, sitting down in the new chair. This one rocked backward, and he lurched, as if afraid it would topple over completely.
Sophia coughed to cover her amusement. From the dark scowl turned her way, she hadn't succeeded.
"That's it." Dougal shoved back the chair and stood,glancing about the room. "Ah!" He strode forward and picked out a thin book of sermons from a set on a side table. He lifted the back of his chair, placed a book beneath one leg, and sat down. "Much better."
Sophia wished he weren't quite so enterprising. She and Angus ha worked for hours to make every chair a uniquely uncomfortable experience. ~ Karen Hawkins

When I worked in a second-hand bookshop - so easily pictured, if you don't work in one, as a kind of paradise where charming old gentlemen browse eternally among calf-bound folios - the thing that chiefly struck me was the rarity of really bookish people. Our shop had an exceptionally interesting stock, yet I doubt whether ten per cent of our customers knew a good book from a bad one. First edition snobs were much commoner than lovers of literature, but oriental students haggling over cheap textbooks were commoner still, and vague-minded women looking for birthday presents for their nephews were commonest of all. ~ George Orwell

Aye lass," nodded Gizurr, "you are quite the beauty for sure. I'd certainly offer to buy you a beer or two if I ever met you in a pub and that's a fact."
Ragni tutted and elbowed Gizurr in the ribs, "Have some respect, she looks young enough to be your daughter."
"Well she isn't is she?" snorted Gizurr, "She's been trapped here for over two thousand years, made to think that she's an ugly old bird and fooled by some arse wipe into protecting a lump of rock that is perfectly capable of looking after itself."
Ragni pursed his lips and nodded slowly in agreement. ~ Jake Adler

I was interrupted in the heyday of this soliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of a child, which complained "it could not get out." - I look'd up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, or child, I went out without further attention.
In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a starling hung in a little cage. - "I can't get out - I can't get out," said the starling.
I stood looking at the bird: and to every person who came through the passage it ran fluttering to the side towards which they approach'd it, with the same lamentation of its captivity. - "I can't get out," said the starling. - God help thee! said I, but I'll let thee out, cost what it will; so I turn'd about the cage to get to the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces. - I took both hands to it.
The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, press'd his breast against it, as if impatient. - I fear, poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee at liberty. - "No," said the starling - "I can't get out - I can't get out," said the starling. ~ Laurence Sterne

You look…exactly the same."
Gulp. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? "I do?" I get up on my tiptoes. "I think I've grown at least an inch since eighth grade." And my boobs are at least a little bigger. Not much. Not that I want John to notice--I'm just saying.
"No, you look…just like how I remembered you." John Ambrose reaches out, and I think he's trying to hug me but he's only trying to take my bag from me, and there's a brief but strange dance that mortifies me but he doesn't seem to notice. "So thanks for inviting me."
"Thanks for coming."
"Do you want me to take this stuff up for you?"
"Sure," I say.
John takes the bag from me and looks inside. "Oh, wow. All of our old snacks! Why don't you climb up first and I'll pass it to you." So that's what I do: I scramble up the ladder and he climbs up behind me. I'm crouched, arms outstretched, waiting for him to pass me the bag.
But when he gets halfway up the ladder, he stops and looks up at me and says, "You still wear your hair in fancy braids."
I touch my side braid. Of all the things to remember about me. Back then, Margot was the one who braided my hair. "You think it looks fancy?"
"Yeah. Like…expensive bread."
I burst out laughing. "Bread!"
"Yeah. Or…Rapunzel."
I get down on my stomach, wriggle over to the edge, and pretend like I'm letting down my hair for him to climb. He climbs up to the top of the ladder and passes me the bag, which I take, and then he grin ~ Jenny Han

I shake my head, knowing that if it hadn't been for me, Ben wouldn't have been there in the first place. I try to tell him that, but he swats my words away with his hand and says he wants to show me something.
"Sure," I say, wondering if he's really as nervous as he seems.
He clenches his teeth and hesitates a couple of moments; the angles of his face seem to grow sharper. Finally, he motions to the pant leg of his jeans.
There's a tear right over his thigh.
"I know you saw it in the hospital," he says, exposing the chameleon tattoo through the torn fabric. "I felt you . . . looking at it. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I did this back home, before I ever came to Freetown. Before I ever met you."
"So it's a coincidence?"
His dark gray eyes swallow mine whole. "Do you honestly believe that?"
"No," I say, listening as he proceeds to tell me that a few months before he got to town, he touched his mother's wedding band - something that reminded him of soul mates - and the image of a chameleon stuck inside his head.
"I couldn't get it out of my mind," he explains. "It was almost like the image was welded to my brain, behind my eyes, haunting me even when I tried to sleep."
"And you got the tattoo because of that?"
"Because I hoped its permanence might help me understand it more - might help me understand what it had to do with my own soul mate."
"And do you understand now?" I ask, swallowing hard.
"Yeah." He smiles. "I ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Before Jesse could say another word, the bedroom door jerked open and Lucie's father stood on the threshold, looking alarmed.
"Lucie?" he said. "Did you call out? I thought I heard you."
Lucie tensed, but the expression in her father's blue eyes didn't change - mild worry mixed with curious puzzlement. He really couldn't see Jesse.
Jesse looked at her and, very irritatingly, shrugged as if to say, I told you so.
"No, Papa," she said. "Everything is all right."
He looked at the manuscript pages scattered all over the rug. "Spot of writer's block, Lulu?"
Jesse raised an eyebrow. Lulu? he mouthed.
Lucie considered whether it was possible to die of humiliation. She did not dare look at Jesse. ~ Cassandra Clare

I remember being a 12 year old art kid and feeling like there was no exciting art movement happening, especially for somebody like me. I was looking around for artistic inspiration and could find nothing - until my older brother's friend brought a Giger book over to the house. Upon seeing the first image I knew I would never be the same. A whole new world opened up to me and I have been exploring it ever since. It's no doubt that I would not be here today, doing what I do, without his influence. H.R. Giger is the king of the Dark Art movement. ~ Chet Zar

You have to stay out of the game. It's deadly and no one ever wins. Everyone is a loser. Even seeming wins are short-lived and have the taste of bitterness mixed in with the satisfaction of personal gain. The ego is exclusive by nature. While the spirit seeks to include, the ego is unashamedly manipulative in its culling of people. The intention of self-aggrandisement is barely even covered over. The soul does not see people in terms of what it can gain. It seeks to share. It seeks to create by extension of its own and others' true nature. The ego is extremely changeable. It has no stability. Constantly guarding against attack and looking out for its own advantage, its perceptions and thus feelings towards others are ever-shifting. This creates unhappiness. The more we veer away from our true nature, the more unhappy we feel. When we align with our better self, we feel happy again. And so the process continues until the spaces between happiness are not as long and arduous. The presence or absence of personal peace is our barometer. It will guide us even if we are not sure of the way. ~ Donna Goddard

Nothing like being woken up after only a few hours of sleep by workmen wanting to come into your sanctuary to check water lines to put life into perspective. Wine glasses, dishes, yesterday's ghosts, and a fucking mess everywhere. It's not all about me, is it? Life moves around out there and sometimes it wants to come in and mess with me when all I want to do is turn over and hide. I am a fragile being, sometimes it takes almost nothing to knock me off my feet and make me tired of living. Sometimes I am so tired that everything is a gargantuan effort. But I'm strong, I always hang on and hold on. My emotions run from being elated and looking up to the sky and seeing all the infinite possibilities, to looking straight into the eyes of Hades. But you know me, I always come through with all my scars, all the love I carry in my heart, and my crooked tiara. Every single diamond in that tiara reflects all the light within me and within you. Indestructible ~ Riitta Klint

Picnic, Lightning

It is possible to be struck by a meteor
or a single-engine plane
while reading in a chair at home.
Safes drop from rooftops
and flatten the odd pedestrian
mostly within the panels of the comics,
but still, we know it is possible,
as well as the flash of summer lightning,
the thermos toppling over,
spilling out on the grass.

And we know the message
can be delivered from within.
The heart, no valentine,
decides to quit after lunch,
the power shut off like a switch,
or a tiny dark ship is unmoored
into the flow of the body's rivers,
the brain a monastery,
defenseless on the shore.

This is what I think about
when I shovel compost
into a wheelbarrow,
and when I fill the long flower boxes,
then press into rows

the limp roots of red impatiens -
the instant hand of Death
always ready to burst forth
from the sleeve of his voluminous cloak.

Then the soil is full of marvels,
bits of leaf like flakes off a fresco,
red-brown pine needles, a beetle quick
to burrow back under the loam.
Then the wheelbarrow is a wilder blue,
the clouds a brighter white,

and all I hear is the rasp of the steel edge
against a round stone,
the small plants singing
with lifted faces, and the click
of the sundial
as one hour sweeps into the next. ~ Billy Collins

Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherin's badges," she whispered urgently.
Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desparate.
"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry
"
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. ~ J.K. Rowling

He recalled that when the sun had risen that morning, he was on another continent, still a shepherd with sixty sheep, and looking forward to meeting with a girl. That morning he had known everything that was going to happen to him as he walked through the familiar fields. But now, as the sun began to set, he was in a different country, a stranger in a strange land, where he couldn't even speak the language. He was no longer a shepherd, and he had nothing, not even the money to return and start everything over. ~ Paulo Coelho