Schoendienst Red Quotes

I don't like to compare clubs or players from way back. It's different today. Your ballparks are better. In the days when I played, we had eight teams in each league. Now you have more. ~ Red Schoendienst

You always believed that as good as you knew you were, there was always somebody who could take your place. I tried to work as hard as I could to make sure that didn't happen. ~ Red Schoendienst

When there were just eight teams in each of the big leagues, I was always told, 'It's hard to come up, but it's just hard to stay in the big leagues.' That's because there's always somebody. The Cardinals had so many minor league clubs and had so many good ballplayers. ~ Red Schoendienst

I'm not much of a jewelry man. I don't even wear a watch half the time. ~ Red Schoendienst

I managed Dal Maxvill, and he's now our general manager. I managed Bob Gibson. He's a broadcaster. Tim McCarver. Bill White. Nellie Briles. He used to be a broadcaster. I tried to count them up one time. ~ Red Schoendienst

On the heights above the river Xzan, at the site of certain ancient ruins, Iucounu the Laughing Magician had built a manse to his private taste: an eccentric structure of steep gables, balconies, sky-walks, cupolas, together with three spiral green glass towers through which the red sunlight shone in twisted glints and peculiar colors. ~ Jack Vance

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. ~ Seamus Heaney

Laurence felt his face going red; she was sitting there in breeches that showed every inch of her leg, with a shirt held closed only by a neckcloth; he shifted his gaze to the unalarming top of her head and managed to say, Your servant, Miss Harcourt. ~ Naomi Novik

Natalie Waite, who was seventeen years old but who felt that she had been truly conscious only since she was about fifteen, lived in an odd corner of the world of sound and sight past the daily voices of her father and mother and their incomprehensible actions. For the past two years - since, in fact, she had turned around suddenly one bright morning and seen from the corner of her eye a person called Natalie, existing, charted, inescapably located on a sport of ground, favored with sense and feet and a bright-red sweater, and most obscurely alive - she had lived completely by herself, allowing not even her father access to the farther places of her mind. She visited strange countries, and the voices of their inhabitants were constantly in her ear; when her father spoke he was accompanied by a sound of distant laughter, unheard probably by anyone else except his daughter. ~ Shirley Jackson

If I could, I would not do anything else. I'd just be in the studio for my whole life. I would never go to parties, events, and red carpets. I would rather just be in the studio for the whole time. I don't even care. Nobody has to know what I look like. I just want to make music. ~ Ariana Grande

There speaks the passion and the rebellion that go with red hair. My second wife had red hair. She was a beautiful woman, and she loved me. Strange, is it not? I have always admired red-haired women. Your hair is very beautiful. There are other things I like about you. Your spirit, your courage; the fact that you have a mind of your own.

~Mr. Aristides ~ Agatha Christie

The dictator's black hand had
made China a birdcage wrapped in red flags.--From "Balloons ~ Zoe S. Roy

an hour at which (as it was now mid-winter) the dirty fingers of Night would have drawn her sable curtain over the universe, had not the moon forbid her, who now, with a face as broad and as red as those of some jolly mortals, who, like her, turn night into day, began to rise from her bed, where she had slumbered away the day, in order to sit up all night. ~ Henry Fielding

Twilight Surprise" poem:

"The sky burns down,
A rim of coals glowing gold and red,
Limned with orange again
And kissed with hints of pink.
The clouds reflect tangerine and plum,
Overshadowing the silent glory.
Darkness and light,
Balanced upon this equinox,
Dance together like old lovers …
… and beget beauty. ~ Elizabeth Barrette

Mars knew that love wasn't all red-paper valentines and candy hearts. Love wasn't always joy. Love could be hot-blooded pain down to the bone. Sometimes love was despair. And sometimes love was wrong. ~ Randy Russell

I am sent on assignments just like guys. I have covered presidential campaigns, natural disasters, tragedies, red carpets, medical stories and more. ~ Megan Alexander

Just as blue is delicate and mysterious, yellow clear and unsubtle, and red sanguine and passionate, so he felt ulfire to be wild and painful, and jale dreamlike, feverish, and voluptuous. ~ David Lindsay

His muscles had wasted away to knotty strings, and the flesh pads had disappeared, so that each rib and every bone in his frame were outlined cleanly through the loose hide that was wrinkled in folds of emptiness. It was heartbreaking, only Buck's heart was unbreakable. The man in the red sweater had proved that. ~ Jack London

I always found the extraordinary loss of life in the First World War very moving. I remember learning about it as a very young child, as an eight- or nine-year-old, asking my teachers what poppies were for. Every year the teachers would suddenly wear these red paper flowers in their lapels, and I would say 'What does that mean?' ~ Tom Hiddleston

The proprietor had hair so red that pigmentation had flowed out into every visible inch of his skin and even into the pinks of his eyes, as the colour of flowering cherry trees stains their leaves. ~ Quentin Crisp

Read the sacred writings of all the peoples on Earth. Through all of them runs, like a red thread, the hidden Science of attaining and maintaining wakefulness. ~ Gustave Meyrink

The ghost was not a ghost at all, or so it claimed - it claimed to be a psychic energy baby, birthed in some ethereal dimension, and pulled into the phone by the powerful magnetism of phone signals. It remembered with perfect clarity how it came to be - remembered coalescing from the membranous surface of the world, streaked with reflected light, humming with surface tension under the pressure of emptiness underneath. The Psychic Energy Baby found form among the emanations of people's minds and the susurrus of their voices, it found flesh in the shapes of their lips and eyes made, the surprise of 'o's and the sibilations of 's's; its skin stretched taut like a soap bubble, forged from the wet sound of lips touching; its thoughts were the musky smells and the nerves twined around the transparent water balloons of the muscles like stems of toadflax, searching restlessly for every available crevice, stretching along cold rough surfaces. Its veins, tiny rivers, pumped heartbeats striking in unison, the dry dallying of billions of ventricular contractions. And it spoke, spoke endlessly, it spokes words that tasted of dark air and formic acid. It could speak long before it took it's final shape.

And when it happened, when all the sounds and smells and words in the world, when all the thoughts had aligned so that it could become - then it found itself pulled into the wires, surrounded by taut copper and green and red and yellow insulation; twined and quartered among the c ~ Ekaterina Sedia

To be white, or straight, or male, or middle class is to be simultaneously ubiquitious and invisible. You're everywhere you look, you're the standard against which everyone else is measured. You're like water, like air. People will tell you they went to see a "woman doctor" or they will say they went to see "the doctor." People will tell you they have a "gay colleague" or they'll tell you about a colleague. A white person will be happy to tell you about a "Black friend," but when that same person simply mentions a "friend," everyone will assume the person is white. Any college course that doesn't have the word "woman" or "gay" or "minority" in its title is a course about men, heterosexuals, and white people. But we call those courses "literature," "history" or "political science."
This invisibility is political. ~ Michael S. Kimmel

Do not cruise through red lights. Because if I'm coming the other way, I will run you down, for fun. ~ Jeremy Clarkson

Kafka saw both himself and Red Peter as hybrids, as monstrous thinking devices mounted inexplicably on suffering animal bodies. ~ J.M. Coetzee

She didn't heed the warning. "So they pay for everything? Doesn't that make you feel guilty?"
Every f**king day. "Was it your money that bought those Louboutin's ... or Braden's?"
Ellie choked on her laughter, smothering the sound quickly in a gulp of her drink. I patted her on the back, aiding her in her pretense. When I looked back at Holly she was glaring at me, her face flushed red to her hairline.
Point made. Question deflected. Spoiled bitch put in her place.
"So people can get married at Stirling Castle, huh?" I turned back to Jenna and our earlier conversation. "I've only visited it once, but it's a beautiful venue ... ~ Samantha Young

Sleeping Wrestler

You are a murderer
No you are not, but really a wrestler
Either way it's just the same
For from the ring of your entangled body
Clean as leather, lustful as a lily
Will nail me down
On your stout neck like a column, like a pillar of tendons
The thoughtful forehead
(In fact, it's thinking nothing)
When the forehead slowly moves and closes the heavy eyelids
Inside, a dark forest awakens
A forest of red parrots
Seven almonds and grape leaves
At the end of the forest a vine
Covers the house where two boys
Lie in each others arms: I'm one of them, you the other
In the house, melancholy and terrible anxiety
Outside the keyhole, a sunset
Dyed with the blood of the beautiful bullfighter Escamillo
Scorched by the sunset, headlong, headfirst
Falling, falling, a gymnast
If you're going to open your eyes, nows the time, wrestler ~ Mutsuo Takahashi

Young Bride had a scratch on her neck from the knife, but no other external injuries. It seemed she was killed by the shock the drunks gave her.

After sixty-odd years, reliving the trauma of that fateful night was too much to bear.

There was no funeral procession. She was buried on the unlucky hill on the outskirts of the village.

The crickets, however, remained around her shack and continued to sing until the first snow fell. ~ Susumu Katsumata

Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth's half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. "Um, sorry," he said. "Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you." I stepped away from Annabeth. "We were just looking at maps," I said stupidly. Malcolm stared at me. "Okay." "Tell Chiron I'll be right there," Annabeth said, and Malcolm left in a hurry. ~ Rick Riordan

One Night Stand"

Listen, you silk-hearted bastard,
I said in the bar last night,
You wear those dream clothes
Like a swan out of water.
Listen, you wool-feathered bastard,
My name, just for the record, is Leda.
I can remember pretending
That your red silk tie is a real heart
That your raw wool suit is real flesh
That you could float beside me with a swan's touch
Of casual satisfaction.
But not the swan's blood.
Waking tomorrow, I remember only
Somebody's feathers and his wrinkled heart
Draped loosely in my bed. ~ Jack Spicer

We were sitting side by side, with our legs swinging on the wall of the tower, and the Clouds™ were all turning pink in front of us. We could see all these miles of filet mignon from where we were sitting, and some places where the genetic coding had gone wrong and there, in the middle of the beef, the tissue had formed a horn or an eye or a heart blinking up at the sunset, which was this brag red, and which hit on all these miles of muscle and made it flex and quiver, with all these shudders running across the top of it, and birds were flying over, crying kind of sad, maybe looking for garbage, and the whole thing, with the beef and the birds and the sky, it glowed like there was a light inside it, which it was time to show us now. ~ M.T. Anderson

Except for hydrogen, all the atoms that make each of us up - the iron in our blood, the calcium in our bones, the carbon in our brains - were manufactured in red giant stars thousands of light-years away in space and billions of years ago in time. We are, as I like to say, starstuff. ~ Carl Sagan

On the morning I was scheduled to die, a large barefoot man with a bushy red beard waddled past my house. ~ Peter Lerangis

The girl, the pretty little thing with the red hair, is she really worth all of this son?""Yes, yes she is. ~ Amy Lunderman

When the girl didn't move, Gavin summoned her near with his fingers. His heart thrummed as she obeyed, stepping up close to him. Her young stature was much shorter than his tall, wiry form. Gavin regarded her prettiness - pale cheeks, pink lips, inquisitive eyes. Fascinated by her, he longed to know her name.

"Who are you?" he asked. He heard the girl utter the same question at the same time.

Cocking his head, he claimed, "I asked you first."

"No you didn't," she protested, shaking her red-hooded head, "I asked you at the same time you asked me."

Gavin grinned at her insistence. It was hard for him not to chuckle. "Well, then, I suppose we'll have to go with 'girls first'." His grin widened into a white smile.

The girl gestured to herself. "I'm Little Red Riding Hood."

He recognized the name of a fairy tale character, and groaned under his breath at not having discovered this dreamer's real name.

"Actually," she confessed almost immediately, "I'm not really Red Riding Hood. My name is Annabelle, but I'm pretending to be her because……well……because this is my dream and that's what I wish to dream about."

Oh glorious day! He'd learned her name! Annabelle! Annabelle! What a perfectly sweet sound was this utterance of…..Annabelle. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;
And being set, I 'll smother thee with kisses;
And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety

Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport. ~ William Shakespeare

She starts out with pork-n-beans right out of the can, adds
some kidney beans, a pound of bacon, and a pint of chopped-up ham, peppers, onions, and spicy barbecue sauce, but that's not her secret. It's a double shot of Jack Daniels and a tablespoon of red pepper flakes. That's her secret-and it makes the beans ~ Carolyn Brown

Red isn't your color, Bozo." Tina had said the first time Eleanor suited up. The other girls all laughed, even the black girls who hated Tina. Laughing at Eleanor was Dr. King's mountain. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Never let money control you. I'd rather see someone spend every red cent and relish his/her life than scrimp, obsess, and pinch the pennies. There's something repugnant about a person who centers his life around money. ~ Rita Mae Brown