Red Wheel Barrow Quotes

You remember I had a strong inclination all my life to be a painter. Under different circumstances I would rather have been a painter than to bother with these god-damn words. I never actually thought of myself as a poet but I knew I had to be an artist in some way. ~ William Carlos Williams

In summer, waiting for night, we'd pose against the afterglow on corners, watching traffic cruise through the neighborhood. Sometimes, a car would go by without its headlights on and we'd all yell, "Lights!"
"Lights!" we'd keep on yelling until the beams flashed on. It was usually immediate - the driver honking back thanks, or flinching embarrassed behind the steering wheel, or gunning past, and we'd see his red taillights blink on.
But there were times - who knows why? - when drunk or high, stubborn, or simply lost in that glide to somewhere else, the driver just kept driving in the dark, and all down the block we'd hear yelling from doorways and storefronts, front steps, and other corners, voices winking on like fireflies: "Lights! Your lights! Hey, lights! ~ Stuart Dybek

Speak of the daimon: Leo burst through the door next to the pantry, holding a loft a wheel of cheese like a victor's laurel crown.
"BEHOLD THE CHEDDAR!" he announced. "ALL HAIL THE CHEESE CONQUERORS!"
Josephine, chuckling good-naturedly, lumbered in behind him with a metal pail. "The cows seemed to like Leo."
"Hey, abuelita," Leo said. "All da cows love Leo." He grinned at me. "And these cows are red man. Like... bright red."
That definitely made me want to weep. Red cows were my favourite. For centuries I had a herd of sacred scarlet cattle before cow-collecting went out of fashion. ~ Rick Riordan

Like a lot of gym teachers, Coach Babcock loved to torture his students. He felt he had failed as a teacher if his students didn't cry out for mercy. He often bragged that he held the school district's record for causing the most hysterical breakdowns in one afternoon. He used such classic forms of torture as weight training, wrestling, long-distance running, rope climing, wind spirits, chin-ups, and the occasional game of wet dodgeball (the wet ball was superloud when it hit a kid, and it left a huge red welt). But his favorite device of torment was so horrible, so truly evil, that it would drive most children to the brink of madness. It was the square dance.
For six weeks of the school year, his students suffered through the Star Promenade, the Slip the Clutch, and the Ferris Wheel. As Babcock saw it, square dancing was the most embarrassing and uncomfortable form of dancing ever created, and a perfect way to prepare his students for the crushing heartbreak of life. Square dancing was a metaphor for like- you got swung around and just when you thought you were free, you got dragged back into the dance. He really thought he was doing the kids a favor. ~ Michael Buckley

Perhaps Dexter's dutiful but uninspired brain pictured him as Sherlock Holmes, able to examine the wheel ruts and deduce that a left-handed hunchback with red hair and a limp had gone down the road carrying a Cuban cigar and a ukulele. I would find no clues, not that it mattered. ~ Jeff Lindsay

The Mexicans relate that, shortly before our arrival in New Spain, there appeared a figure in the heavens of a circular form, like a carriage wheel, the colours of which were a mixture of green and red. Shortly after a second, of a similar form, made its appearance, which moved towards the rising of the sun, and joined the first. ~ Bernal Diaz Del Castillo

As we're leaving the King's Arms Hotel after Sunday lunch, I watch a beautiful white dove walking down the wet road. A car approaches and the bird accidentally turns into the wheel rather than away from it. A gentle crunch. The car passes. A shape like a discarded napkin left in the road. Still perfectly white, no red stains, but bearing no relation anymore to the shape of a bird. A trail of white feathers flutter down the road after the car. The suddeness is very upsetting. That gentle crunch. ~ Antony Sher

He could be wearing a red letterman's jacket, driving around in a Corvette with the top down, one arm on the steering wheel, on his way to pick up his girl for the sock hop. ~ Jenny Han

Do you guys ever feel like you're locked inside a car that's moving really fast?

"What kinda car?" Chris asks.

Like a fucking red Monte Carlo with a black racing stripe cutting through the middle of it, and there's some superintense Fantomas shit jolting from the car speakers, like Mike Patton and Buzz Osbourne just completely losing it, but no steering wheel. The car doesn't have one. And the car is so out of control, right? It's swerving all over the road, and you're crying, pounding your fists against the window trying to jump out of it, trying to bail from it, and then all of these people start popping up on the road, like your parents and your sister and your friends, and the car is playing human dodgeball with them. It's trying to not run anyone over, but it's not slowing down, either, and then some junkie babe pops up in the middle of the road and the car destroys her, leaving her mangled body in its burnt rubber path, and then it keeps on going and going even though it can't maintain anything close to the same speed. ~ Jason Myers

Looking back down the vale of the ages at the endless recurrence of their reincarnations, before they were forced to drink their vials of forgetting and all became obscure to them again, they could see no pattern at all to their efforts; if the gods had a plan, or even a set of procedures, if the long train of transmigrations was supposed to add up to anything, if it was not just mindless repetition, time itself nothing but a succession of chaoses, no one could discern it; and the story of their transmigrations, rather than being a narrative without death, as the first experiences of reincarnation perhaps seemed to suggest, had become instead a veritable charnel house. Why read on? Why pick up their book from the far wall where it has been thrown away in disgust and pain, and read on? Why submit to such cruelty, such bad karma, such bad plotting?

The reason is simple: these things happened. They happened countless times, just like this. The oceans are salt with our tears. No one can deny that these things happened.

And so there is no choice in the matter. They cannot escape the wheel of birth and death, not in the experience of it, or in the contemplation of it afterwards; and their anthologist, Old Red Ink himself, must tell their stories honestly, must deal in reality, or else the stories mean nothing. And it is crucial that the stories mean something. ~ Kim Stanley Robinson

Marriage is one of our most defining moments because so much is wrapped up in it. If building a career is like spending twelve hours at the blackjack table - seeing the cards as you make your decisions, playing each hand with current winnings in mind, having a new opportunity to take a chance or play it safe with every card dealt - then choosing a mate is like walking over to the roulette wheel and putting all your chips on red 32. ~ Meg Jay

I'm an overthinker. Many of us are. My mind gets racing a thousand miles a minute and I get anxious about my work, my career, or where I need to be in thirty minutes. Every day I need to shut down this machine and simply be still.
Be aware of your breathing, really feel your breath going in, going out. Be aware of the feeling of the cloth on your shirt. Be aware of the grip on the steering wheel. Tell yourself--out oud--that the only thing that truly exists right now is this exact moment, and enjoy it, swim in it. Someone once said that your mind is like a raging river that's full of debris, and when you're floating in this river, you reach out and try to grab the branches and rocks. But what if you could climb onto the bank and watch the river? Suddenly you're in a calm place.
Maybe it sounds like a cliché to say, "Stop and smell the roses," so I'll tell you this instead: "Stop and watch the sunset." Just the other night, driving home in L.A., I was struck by how beautiful the sky was--a dark blue canvas painted with strokes of bright orange and red. It was truly one of the most glorious sunsets I'd ever seen. I was stuck in traffic, worrying about one thing or another, and I just gazed out the window and drank it in. I let it fill my soul and inspire me. The world stopped revolving for just that split second, and my mind was still and calm.
And to think, I could have missed it. ~ Derek Hough

Business is like a wheel barrow. Nothing happens until you start pushing. ~ Robert Kiyosaki

I like red - don't get me wrong. But I have a deep appreciation for anything that is willing to be totally and utterly itself. If you're going to be red, well, then, be red, goddamnit. From your steering wheel to your hubcaps, be red. ~ Adi Alsaid

His ordeal has stripped away every bit of himself and leaves him feeling completely exposed to his Enemy. He has no way to know when the next full-scale attack will come, only that it will and that he cannot hide or protect himself from it.
Yet even in Frodo's darkness, with the fiery Ring as the only illumination he senses, there is still deep union between him and God. Evil continually forces its way into the hobbit's soul, but God is already there to strengthen him in his struggle to keep the demonic power from overwhelming him completely. As Frodo burns upon the kindled wheel, he becomes a candle set alight by both Light and Dark, a figure 'clothed in flame' (LOTR, 890), as Sam saw by the red light in the Tower chamber. The combination of this torment, God's love for him, and his own love for his world consume him in 'a holy sacrifice, truly pleasing to God' (Rom. 12:1). ~ Anne Marie Gazzolo

It was another blind date; this time her uncle had set her up. The plan: Meet outside of her fancy Midtown Manhattan office building. How would she recognize him? "I'll be the guy with the hole
in his boot," he told her. And there he was,
covered in dust from his construction job, with a
big hole in his fraying boot. What was supposed to be one drink turned into two . . . then a ride on the Ferris wheel in Toys R Us . . . then dinner. He wrote her this note exactly two months after their first date, delivering it rolled up and tied with a string, along with two red roses. They were married in July 2006.
(return ~ Bill Shapiro

Life had a way of wrecking her careful plans, again and again. Roulette was more predictable than life. Small wonder she was so lucky at it.
Life was not a wheel going round and round. It never, ever returned to the same place. It didn't stick to simple red and black and a certain array of numbers. It laughed at logic.
Beneath its pretty overdress of man-imposed order, life was anarchy. ~ Loretta Chase

The Addams dwelling at 25 West Fifty-fourth Street was directly behind the Museum of Modern Art, at the top of the building. It was reached by an ancient elevator, which rumbled up to the twelfth floor. From there, one climbed through a red-painted stairwell where a real mounted crossbow hovered. The Addams door was marked by a "big black number 13," and a knocker in the shape of a vampire.

...Inside, one entered a little kingdom that fulfilled every fantasy one might have entertained about its inhabitant. On a pedestal in the corner of the bookcase stood a rare "Maximilian" suit of armor, which Addams had bought at a good price ("a bargain at $700")... It was joined by a half-suit, a North Italian Morion of "Spanish" form, circa 1570-80, and a collection of warrior helmets, perched on long stalks like decapitated heads... There were enough arms and armaments to defend the Addams fortress against the most persistent invader: wheel-lock guns; an Italian prod; two maces; three swords. Above a sofa bed, a spectacular array of medieval crossbows rose like birds in flight. "Don't worry, they've only fallen down once," Addams once told an overnight guest. ...

Everywhere one looked in the apartment, something caught the eye. A rare papier-mache and polychrome anatomical study figure, nineteenth century, with removable organs and body parts captioned in French, protected by a glass bell. ("It's not exactly another human heart beating in the house, but it's close ~ Linda H. Davis

A Boat O beautiful was the werewolf in his evil forest. We took him to the carnival and he started crying when he saw the Ferris wheel. Electric green and red tears flowed down his furry cheeks. He looked like a boat out on the dark water. ~ Richard Brautigan

Tink appeared in the open door again, his wings rapidly moving, and in his hands he held a ... slingshot? Oh sweet baby Jesus take the wheel. Where did he get a slingshot? Off of Amazon? That didn't matter. The brownie had taken the time to paint his face. One half was red, the other blue. He looked like he wandered off the set of Braveheart. I mouthed the word no at him. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

It takes me nearly a half hour to make what should be a ten-minute trip, and by the time I pull up in front of my house, my hands are cramped from my death grip on the steering wheel.
It's not until I step out of the car, my legs feeling like they're made of Jell-O, that I notice Ryder's Durango parked in front of me.
"Where the hell have you been?" he calls out from the front porch, just as I make a mad dash to join him there. His face is red, his brow furrowed over stormy eyes. "They let us out an hour ago!"
I am really not in the mood for his crap. "Yeah, so?"
"So I was worried sick. A tornado touched down over by the Roberts' place."
"I know! I mean, I didn't know it touched down, but I was still at school when the sirens went off." I drop my ridiculously heavy backpack and shake the rain from my hair. "Is everyone okay over there?"
He runs a visibly trembling hand through his hair. "Yeah, it just tore up their fence or something. Jesus, Jemma!"
"What is wrong with you? Why are you even here?"
"I'm supposed to stay over here, remember?"
"What…now?" I look past him and notice an army-green duffel bag by the front door. He's got a key--he could've just let himself in.
"I figured now's as good a time as any. We need to put sandbags in front of the back door before it gets any worst out, and then we've got to do something about the barn. It's awful close to the creek, and the water's rising fast."
"Well, what do you prop ~ Kristi Cook

Desperately. Tally searched her brain for a prayer. Any prayer. Now I lay me down to sleep... No! Not that one. Hail Mary something, something. She wasn't Catholic. Oh, God, she should've gone to church more often. And Jesus, now definitely wasn't the time to blaspheme.
Fingers completely numb from gripping the chair, she kept her gaze pinned, with manic attention, on the pirate's large, strong hands on the wheel. Backlit eerily by the red lights on the instrument panel, those few teeny, tiny red lights were all that held her together.
She hated the dark. Hated, hated, hated it.
She wasn't that fond of roller coasters, either, and this was about seven hundred times worse. Putting the two together was overkill and proved that God had a sense of humor. Maybe she didn't want to pray after all. The boat hit a trough with the force of a ten-ton cement truck slamming into a granite mountain. Every bone in her body jarred.
Dear God, how long could the pirate ship last in this onslaught? Her brain pulled up every water movie she'd ever seen. Titanic. The Abyss. The Deep. Jaws... Oh, Lord. The Perfect Storm...
There were things she still wanted to do in her life. Off the top of her head she couldn't think of a one right now. But topping her list was dying in her own bed in Chicago. Dry. Of old age. ~ Cherry Adair

You know you're in the Lowcountry when the steering wheel in your old red pick up is slippery from humidity, the news on the radio is all about the projected path of the latest Atlantic hurricane and the road kill you narrowly miss smearing further is a five foot long alligator. ~ Natasha Boyd

He listened to the hooting of many metal horns, squealing of brakes, the calls of vendors selling red-purple bananas and jungle oranges in their stalls. Colonel Freeleigh's feet began to move, hanging from the edge of his wheel chair, making the motions of a man walking. His eyes squeezed tight. He gave a series of immense sniffs, as if to gain the odors of meats hung on iron hooks in sunshine, cloaked with flies like a mantle of raisins; the smell of stone alleys wet with morning rain. He could feel the sun bum his spiny-bearded cheek, and he was twenty-five years old again, walking, walking, looking, smiling, happy to be alive, very much alert, drinking in colors and smells. ~ Ray Bradbury

Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. ~ Dylan Thomas

I drove to the doctor's office as if I was starring in a movie Phillip was watching
windows down, hair blowing, just one hand on the wheel. When I stopped at red lights, I kept my eyes mysteriously forward. Who is she? people might have been wondering. Who is that middle-aged woman in the blue Honda? ~ Miranda July

I distracted Herbert by pretending to trip and break a bone. Ethan darted around to the red golf cart with a cocky smile on his face. He put the key in ignition, and the vehicle roared to life. "Hey," Herbert shouted, snapping his attention to Ethan.
I sprang up and ran up to Ethan. He pulled me in the cart and stomped on the gas pedal. We shot through the automatic doors with Herbert on our tail.
"Go faster!" I cheered.
My brother smacked the steering wheel. "I can't; it's a golf cart. ~ Erica Sehyun Song

If the thing bites down much harder I might wig out and demand beer ... stay away from the phone, watch the red arrow ... this typewriter is keeping me on my rails, without it I'd be completely adrift and weird. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Oh shit," a super-deep, gravelly voice said. The voice came from a man behind the book counter, and he was the one not smiling. He had long, gray hair pulled back in a braid, a red, rolled bandana wrapped around his forehead and a thick gray beard. ~ Kristen Ashley

I think I see her chest rise as she catches her breath. Maybe she'll be the one to throw on the brakes. God knows I'm not going to. I might regret it later, but right now I'm not thinking about anything but what it would be like to see Olivia without that red dress. ~ M. Leighton

Mrs. Winalski owned a candy-apple-red 1965 Mustang GT convertible, and she drove it like she could die at any minute and needed to get five things done before that happened. ~ Lish McBride

Blah, blah, blah, regret to inform you that DI Gray has tendered his resignation; blah, blah, blah; opportunity to reward performance; blah, blah, blah; suggestions by next Wednesday.

McPherson had scribbled, "BEATTIE?" in the margin in red biro.

Idiot.

Logan stuck the memo back in the drawer. Detective Sergeant Beattie couldn't arrest his own backside with three patrol cars and a search warrant. ~ Stuart MacBride

Freedom is the kind of essence of being a pirate: You're away from land-locked Europe. You're not part of the society. You're part of the brotherhood of the sea, Your ship is your sense of identity. So when you approach the wheel, that's what you own. ~ Geoffrey Rush

When am I going to learn to stop questioning authority and just eat the Soylent Green? ~ Red Tash

He lifts her white cotton skirt, revealing
another hour. His hand. His hands. The syllables

inside them. O father, O foreshadow, press
into her  -  as the field shreds itself

with cricket cries. Show me how ruin makes a home
out of  hip bones. O mother,

O minutehand, teach me
how to hold a man the way thirst

holds water. Let every river envy
our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body

like a season. Where apples thunder
the earth with red hooves. & I am your son. ~ Ocean Vuong

Civilization is only skin deep, and so is barbarism. Had your country never broken its word and been as just as it is powerful, your red men would have been to-day where our brown men are - our equals." An ~ Rounsevelle, 1864-1901 Wildman

Life was such a wheel that no man could stand upon it for long. And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again. ~ Stephen King

Beneath his hands, my skin is so light and tight I half imagine I'm transparent. I'm glass for him, all the way to my blood-red, shining heart. ~ Alexis Hall

My son, there is no reason to be distraught. The leeches will cleanse your wound." The friar scratched one of his enormous ears with the tweezers. "My insurance doesn't cover freaky friars or leeches." Troy sat up and swung his legs over the cot. A strip of cloth was wrapped around his gray tights, just above his left knee. A dark red stain had spread across the strip. "When my agent finds out you've kept me here, instead of taking me to a hospital, he'll cram a lawsuit up your butt so fast you'll be the one who's...distraught. ~ Suzanne Selfors

She wandered almost at random, zigzagging streets, following a canal for a bit, stopping to admire the towering red brick buildings that channelled her along, manufacturing heritage trailing along the water. Some were more than eight stories tall, solid behemoths that would outlast whatever food outlet had set up shop on the ground.

Looking up changed things, it revealed all the details on the old buildings: secret towers, spires, turrets. They were castles in the city. Rewards for those that saw beyond their shuffling footsteps. This was a city made for looking up, she thought. ~ Karl Drinkwater

Every red stripe in that flag represents the black man's blood that has been shed. ~ Fannie Lou Hamer

Mama and I walked back out of the woods just in time to hear Frannie squeal, "I want to stay here forever!" "Fine by me." Cleo smiled. She opened up her little red cooler and sloshed through the ice. She pulled out an orange soda bottle and passed it to my sister. "We can stay here all day, at least." "Cleo Harness?" yelled a familiar, husky voice from the edge of the woods. "Is that you?" "Pack up!" Cleo hollered. "We're leaving!" She kicked the cooler lid shut and stood up so fast that her camping chair stayed stuck to her behind. ~ Natalie Lloyd

There was no hope on earth, and God seemed to have forgotten us. Some said they saw the Son of God; others did not see Him. If He had come, He would do some great things as He had done before. We doubted it because we had seen neither Him nor His works. ~ Red Cloud

I like red wine because it's more sophisticated, more complex and mature. It's a bit like me, no longer young but not old yet either. ~ Mick Hucknall

The multicolored leaves were softly glowing against the black sky, creating an untimely nocturnal rainbow which scattered its spectral tints everywhere and dyed the night with a harvest of hues: peach gold and pumpkin orange, honey yellow and winy amber, apple red and plum violet. Luminous within their leafy shapes, the colors cast themselves across the darkness and were splattered upon our streets and our fields and our faces. Everything was resplendent with the pyrotechnics of a new autumn. ~ Thomas Ligotti

Everyone sees different. What people are taught is how they adapt to life. What may be red to one, is green to another, but they still consider it red. People believe whatever they are told to. This leads to the disasters in the world today. And what will teach us to adapt to them? ~ James Wheeler

People saying, 'Life didn't turn out the way I wanted it to.' Welcome to the club. I wanted to be the starting center-fielder for the Boston Red Sox, for chrissakes! ~ Denis Leary