Street Lamps Quotes

Outside, the sleet had gotten thicker. You could hear it pebbling against the large glass windows, you could see it swirling wildly through the spotlights of street lamps. It was the kind of night when you might expect to see a skeleton flying through the air, its ragged black shroud flapping in the wind. ~ Dan Chaon

The winter night blew in with frosty wind, and the street lamps with their sputtering carbons swung restlessly and made the shadows dart back and forth like a runner trying to steal second base. ~ John Steinbeck

At any rate, this was the weekend that things started to change, that the dark gaps between the street lamps begin to grow smaller and smaller, and farther apart, the first sign that one's train is approaching familiar territory, and will soon be passing through the well-known, well-lighted streets of town. The house was their trump card, their fondest treasure, and that weekend they revealed it to me slyly, by degrees – the dizzy little turret rooms, the high-beamed attic, the old sleigh in the cellar, big enough to be pulled by four horses, astring with bells. ~ Donna Tartt

The snow was dancing like cotton wool in the light of the street lamps. Aimlessly, unable to decide whether it wanted to fall up or down, just letting itself be driven by the hellish, ice-cold wind that was sweeping in from the great darkness covering the Oslo fjord. Together they swirled, wind and snow, round and round in the darkness between the warehouses on the quayside that were all shut up for the night. Until the wind got fed up and dumped it's dance partner beside the wall. And there the dry, windswept snow was settling around the shoes of the man I had just shot I the chest and the neck. ~ Jo Nesbo

He stood up, a giant of a man - er, male, his dark hair catching the dim light from the street lamps out in front of the condo. A wave of sadness came over her, and she closed her eyes.
"Hey," he said, sitting down next to her. "None of that. We're not sad. You and me? We're not sad. We don't do sad."
She laughed with a choking sound. "How did you know what I was feeling? Or do I look that pathetic?"
He tapped his nose. "I can smell it. Spring rain is what the scent's like."
"I hate this good-bye shit."
"Me, too." He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. "Here." He shrugged out of his long-sleeved shirt, balled it up, and put it under her cheek. "Pretend this is me."
She breathed in deep, caught the bonding scent, and was calmed a little. As he stood, he looked so strong in just a muscle shirt, invincible, like a superhero. And yet he breathed.
"Please…be careful."
"Always." He bent over and kissed her again. "I love you."
As he pulled away, she reached out and grabbed his arm. Words failed, but the silence said enough.
"I hate the leaving, too," he replied roughly. "But I'll be back. I promise."

-Vishous & Jane ~ J.R. Ward

I left him and went up on deck to look out at the slithering city, its glitter of street lamps fizzy under the rain. There's something wrong about a ship in dock, something pathetic, like a bird fluttering in a spill of oil. The Nova was tethered to her berth by ropes and chains, caught in a pool of greasy water. I could feel her shifting under my feet, tugging to be free. ~ Beryl Bainbridge

One way of grounding the magic is by putting in lots of stuff about street lamps, carriages, and how difficult it is to get good servants. ~ Susanna Clarke

Although it was only six o'clock, the night was already dark. The fog, made thicker by its proximity to the Seine, blurred every detail with its ragged veils, punctured at various distances by the reddish glow of lanterns and bars of light escaping from illuminated windows. The road was soaked with rain and glittered under the street-lamps, like a lake reflecting strings of lights. A bitter wind, heavy with icy particles, whipped at my face, its howling forming the high notes of a symphony whose bass was played by swollen waves crashing into the piers of the bridges below. The evening lacked none of winter's rough poetry. ~ Theophile Gautier

Sketchbooks and journals are the street lamps that illuminate the artist's journey. ~ Neil Waldman

The street lamps glowed like ripe oranges among the bare boughs. Below in the wet street their globes glimmered down and down, to drown in their own reflections. ~ Mary Stewart

The fruition of the year had come and the night should have been fine with a moon in the sky and the crisp sharp promise of frost in the air, but it wasn't that way. It rained and little puddles of water shone under the street lamps on Main Street. In the woods in the darkness beyond the Fair Ground water dripped from the black trees. ~ Sherwood Anderson

The naive lose it in dark woods,
but seek it under the street lamps. ~ Toba Beta

And in the evening, everywhere
Along the roadside, up and down,
I see the golden torches flare
Like lighted street-lamps in the town. ~ Frank Dempster Sherman

We live in a world full of accidents finally in which on aesthetic principles have a consistency of which we can be sure. Right and wrong we will struggle with forever striving to create and maintain an ethical balance. Right and wrong we will struggle with forever, striving to create and maintain an ethical balance; but the shimmer of summer rain under the street lamps or the great flashing glare of artillery against a night sky – such brutal beauty is beyond dispute. ~ Anne Rice

Most of us, myself included, have forgotten what real darkness is like. We live in a world where light is inescapable. It comes from street lamps, headlights, security floodlights, and even the faint glow of our alarm clocks. ~ Jake Halpern

How wonderful to find in living creatures the same substance as those which make up minerals. Nevertheless they felt a sort of humiliation at the idea that their persons contained phosphorous like matches, albumen like white of egg, hydrogen gas like street lamps. ~ Gustave Flaubert

He was fond of that early stage of intoxication which leads a man to believe that he can feel the earth revolving. The trees and houses still stand quietly in their places, the street-lamps have not yet acquired a twin, but the earth revolves; you feel it at last! But today even that displeased him. He walked on beside his intoxication and pretended they did not know each other. What a queer globe it was, whether it revolved or not! He could not help thinking of a drawing by Daumier, entitled "Progress". Daumier had drawn a number of snails crawling after each other; that was the pace of human development. But the snails were crawling in a circle.
And that was the worst of it. ~ Erich Kastner

Lost in my dreams, I somehow cross at the traffic signals, bumping into street lamps or people, yet moving onward, exuding fumes of beer and grime, yet smiling, because my briefcase is full of books and that very night I expect them to tell me things about myself I don't know. ~ Bohumil Hrabal

The tattoos around his eyes burned as he scanned the surrounding area. No one but him probably noticed, but the plumes of darkness branching in every direction were writhing and groaning, desperate to avoid the light of the moon and street lamps.
Come to me, he beseeched them.
They didn't hesitate. As if they'd merely been waiting for the invitation, they danced toward him, flattening against his car, shielding it - and thereby him - from prying eyes.
"Freaks me out every damn time you do that," Rowan said as he crawled into the front passenger seat. For the first time, Sean's friend had accompanied him to "keep you from doing something you'll regret." Not that Gabby had known. Rowan had lain in the backseat the entire drive. "I can't see a damn thing."
"I can." Sean's gaze could cut through shadows as easily as a knife through butter.
Gabby was in the process of settling behind the wheel of her car. Though more than two weeks had passed since their kiss, they hadn't touched again. Not even a brush of fingers.
He was becoming desperate for more.
That kiss . . . it was the hottest of his life. He'd forgotten where he was, what - and who - was around him. He'd never, never, risked discovery like that. But that night, having Gabby so close, those lush lips of hers parted and ready, those brown eyes watching him as if he were something delicious, he'd been unable to stop himself. He'd beckoned the shadows around them, meshed their lips together, ~ Gena Showalter

The sky above them was an intense velvety black, changing to bands of Indian red on the horizon, where the great stars burned like street-lamps. From time to time a greenish wave of the Northern Lights would roll across the hollow of the high heavens, flick like a flag, and disappear; or a meteor would crackle from darkness to darkness, trailing a shower of sparks behind. Then they could see the ridged and furrowed surface of the floe tipped and laced with strange colours - red, copper, and bluish; but in the ordinary starlight everything turned to one frost-bitten gray. ~ Rudyard Kipling

Shadows stretched from one side of the street to the other, reaching up the walls like fingers as the street lamps came on. In the north, a bank of dark clouds was building above the ridge of mountains, the tops of Buchanan and Crandell already fading into misty half-light. The last pigmented bands of sunset gilded the sides of buildings in orange light, but the rattle of wind against the panes of glass brought with it a promise of rain.
Autumn was coming, but no one save Hunter Slate seemed to notice the change. ~ Danika Stone

He liked however the open shutters; he opened everywhere those Mrs. Muldoon had closed, closing them as carefully afterwards, so that she shouldn't notice: he liked
oh this he did like, and above all in the upper rooms!
the sense of the hard silver of the autumn stars through the window-panes, and scarcely less the flare of the street-lamps below, the white electric lustre which it would have taken curtains to keep out. This was human actual social; this was of the world he had lived in, and he was more at his ease certainly for the countenance, coldly general and impersonal, that all the while and in spite of his detachment it seemed to give him. ~ Henry James

I love to hear singing to a street organ," said Raskolnikov, and his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject - "I like it on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings - they must be damp - when all the passers-by have pale green, sickly faces, or better still when wet snow is falling straight down, when there's no wind - you know what I mean? and the street lamps shine through it …. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. That's my middle-west - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

Seeing that I would never manage to fall asleep, I arose, lit a candle, and after dressing went outside.

Beneath the dull glow of the winter moon the snow glowed like pale blue china. The sidewalks sparkled weakly beneath the rays of the flickering street lamps; the benumbed streets slumbered forlornly. I walked, passing one corner after the other, and suddenly found myself on the edge of town. Further, beyond the square, an endless expanse began to glisten with a somber silverness.

I stopped just before the gates. My intent gaze could distinguish nothing in the distant white expanse. Before me rose the imposing bank of the Volga like a gigantic snowdrift. So barren and uninviting was this deserted view resembling eternity that my heart contracted.

I turned to the right and approached quite close to the monastery enclosure. From behind the bronze gates, glimmered a dense net of crosses and gravestones. The ancient eyes of the church gazed forbiddingly down on me, and with an eerie feeling I thought of the monks sleeping at this moment in tomb-like cells together with corpses. Were any of them thinking of the hour of death on this night?

("Lamia") ~ Boris Sadovskoy

She holds the remnants of slashed clothes around her, keeping her modesty. It's pitiable, really, that a creature so utterly owned clings to modesty.

"Why?" she asks again.

He shrugs again. "You needed help."

"No one helps a windup." Her voice is flat. "You are a fool." She pushes damp hair away from her face. A surreal stutter-stop motion, the genetic bits of her unkinking. Her smooth skin shines between the edges of her slashed blouse, the gentle promise of her breasts. What would she feel like? Her skin gleams, smooth and inviting.

She catches him staring. "Do you wish to use me?"

"No." he looks away, uneasy. "It's not necessary."

"I would not fight you," she says.

Anderson feels a sudden revulsion at the acquiescence in her voice. On another day, at another time, he probably would have taken her for the novelty. Thought nothing of it. But the fact that she expects so little fills him with distaste. He forces a smile. "Thank you. No."

She nods shortly. Looks out again at the humid night and the green glow of the street lamps. It's impossible to say if she is grateful or surprised, or if his decision even matters to her. However her mask might have slipped in the heat of terror and relief of escape, her thoughts are carefully locked away now. ~ Paolo Bacigalupi

Soon only the street lamps rose clear and shone down on a mass that devoured everything, people and houses, we could not see more than three meters in front of us. The lights around us were hard to make out and Jesper stayed where he was; stretching out his arms like a blind man he said:
'This is what it must have been like when the Man from Danzig was shipwrecked. He must have been frightened. He thought he knew where everything was, and then it was all sheer chaos. Put your hand in front of your eyes, Sistermine, and spin around three times, then tell me which is the way home.'
I did as he said, I spun around so I almost fell down, I opened my eyes and peered in all directions.
'I don't know.'
'Then anything can happen. ~ Per Petterson

I just had a normal African childhood; we played football a lot, but it was always in the street and always without shoes. Boots were very expensive, and when there are seven in your family, and you say you want to buy a pair, your father wants to kill you. ~ Yaya Toure

You try to shut the criticism out, but it's pretty hard to do. You see people on the street, friends, people that you know are in your corner, and they come and tell you how bad they feel, and that's not the kind of conversation you want. I don't want anyone to feel bad for me. ~ Don Shula

Rallick will kill you," Murillio said levelly.

"Nonsense." Kruppe placed the mask over his face. "How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?"

Murillio studied the man's round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. "Never mind." He sighed.

"Excellent," Kruppe said. "Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned." He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. "Off to yon alchemist's abode, then. Good evening, friend - "

"Wait a minute," Murillio said, grasping Kruppe's arm and turning him round. "Have you seen Coll?"

"Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.'Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend - "

"Not yet," Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. "I've worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are."

"Aaai!" Kruppe cried, withdrawing. "I'll not deny it, then! It's true, Murillio, K ~ Steven Erikson

You come in off the street, through the doors of the theater. You sit down. The lights go down and the curtain goes up. And you're in another world. ~ Robert Caro

It changed my life," the first-grader said of the iPad. "I'm reading everything on the street." To prove his point, he read all the words on a pizza box he cradled on his lap. ~ Anonymous

One of my very greatest fears as a child was being ridiculed in public. And there it was coming true. As a television presenter, I'd been respected. People come up to you in the street and shake your hand and talk to you in a respectful way. ~ David Icke

The yellow moon dreamily
tipping buttons of light
down among the leaves. Marimba,
marimba - from beyond the
black street.
Somebody dancing,
somebody
getting the hell
outta here. Shadows of cats
weave round the treetrunks,
the exposed knotty roots.
("Scenes from the Life of the Peppertrees") ~ Denise Levertov

For everyday clothes, I love North Face and Rohan, and for smarter options, I like Whistles and Agnes b on Marylebone High Street. ~ Imelda Staunton

A street full of shadows will teach you what life is much better than the street full of lights! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

What am I?" he asked. "I am Edmund Herondale, and, my lady, I am always and forever at your service. If you will have me." He smiled, and the smile was slow and devastating. In the dark narrow street long past midnight, his eyes were high summer. ~ Cassandra Clare

He followed you into the staff room and didn't come back for twenty minutes and when he did come back, he looked like he'd been mauled by a woman who'd been locked in an empty room without a vibrator, or a man for ten years! ~ Samantha Young

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A muddy little stream, a village grown unfamiliar with time and trees. I turn around and retrace my way up Main Street and park and have a Coke in the confectionery store. It is run by a Greek, as it used to be, but whether the same Greek or another I would not know. He does not recognize me, nor I him. Only the smell of his place is familiar, syrupy with old delights, as if the ghost of my first banana split had come close to breathe on me. ~ Wallace Stegner

What you powerfully hold
In your thought-world
Will make you either
A street beggar
Or a great king. ~ Sri Chinmoy

Whenever I am back in the neighborhood, I sometimes pass my apartment from the street. I like to believe, stupidly, that if I were to open the front door again, in the back I would find my roses, huge from their seaweed tea and the many days of six hours' sunlight, perhaps growing legs, ready to push down the building and walk out to the street, striking cars out of the way and slicing the blacktop to ribbons. I want to think that they would miss me, their erstwhile tormentor, the one who pushed them so hard to grow, cutting and soaking them in the blazing sun from spring to winter. From the street, from across the river, where I live now without them, I can feel them still, the sap pulsing in their veins, pushing their way to the sky.

But the creature that grew legs and walked away from the garden was me. I was not their gardener. They were mine. ~ Alexander Chee

There is no whit less enlightenment under the tree by your street than there was under the Buddha's bo tree. I invite you to go sit under that tree by your street. ~ Annie Dillard

And I'm not too great at that sort of comforting thing, especially when my hands are cold and the bed is warm. I carried him softly through the broken street, with one salty eye and a heavy, deathly heart. With him I tried a little harder. I watched the contents of his soul for a moment and saw a black-painted boy calling the name Jesse Owens as he ran through an imaginary tape. I saw him hip-deep in some icy water chasing a book, and I saw a boy lying in bed, imagining how a kiss would taste from his glorious next door neighbour. He does something to me, that boy. Every time. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry. ~ Markus Zusak

The market might have learned a simple lesson: Don't make loans to people who can't repay them. Instead it learned a complicated one: You can keep on making these loans, just don't keep them on your books. Make the loans, then sell them off to the fixed income departments of big Wall Street investment banks, which will in turn package them into bonds and sell them to investors. ~ Michael Lewis

When I meet a cat, I say, "Poor Pussy!" and stop down and tickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid, cast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my trousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat, the whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted in ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with care. ~ Jerome K. Jerome

We don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee, we don't take trips on LSD. We don't burn our draft cards down on Main Street, we like living right and free. ~ Merle Haggard

Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night. ~ Robert Frost

When I open my eyes, the morning light makes me wish I hadn't. Raffe lies on his sofa, watching me with those dark blue eyes. I swallow, suddenly feeling awkward and unkempt. Great. The world has come to an end, my mother is out there with the street gangs, crazier than ever, my sister has been kidnapped by vengeful angels, and I'm concerned that my hair is greasy and my breath smells bad. ~ Susan Ee

Always take the time to show compassion for those less fortunate, and there are many. Take the time to help a young child cross the street, or to carry a bag of groceries for an elderly lady. And every now and then, look up into that big, beautiful, blue sky and admit that there are things in this world more wondrous that yourself. ~ Jack Lambert

I'd be sixteen by now," he said slowly.
"Oh, Magnus!" Ragnor wailed. "That's disgusting! How could you? Have you lost your mind?"
"What?" Magnus asked again.
"We agreed eighteen was the cutoff age," said Ragnor. "You, I, and Catarina made a vow."
"A v - Oh, wait. You think I'm dating Raphael?" Magnus asked. "Raphael? That's ridiculous. That's - "
"That's the most revolting idea I've ever heard." Raphael's voice rang out to the ceiling. Probably people in the street could hear him.
"That's a little strong," said Magnus. "And, frankly, hurtful."
"And if I did wish to indulge in unnatural pursuits - and let me be clear, I certainly do not," Raphael continued scornfully, "as if I would choose him. Him! He dresses like a maniac, acts like a fool, and makes worse jokes than the man people throw rotten eggs at outside the Dew Drop every Saturday."
Ragnor began to laugh.
"Better men than you have begged for a chance to win all this," Magnus muttered. "They have fought duels in my honor. One man fought a duel for my honor, but that was a little embarrassing since it is long gone."
"Do you know he spends hours in the bathroom sometimes?" Raphael announced mercilessly. "He wastes actual magic on his hair. On his hair!"
"I love this kid," said Ragnor. ~ Cassandra Clare

If there were one city I should pick to live in, it would be New York. It is a city where I walk down the street and feel anything is possible. ~ Maria Schell

Joe had never flown in an airplane, never seen a city from any higher vantage point than that afforded by his own six-foot-three frame. Now, standing on the observation deck, he looked out at the many spires of New York rising through a pall of smoke and steam and heat haze and did not know whether he found it beautiful or frightening.
He leaned over the low stone parapet and peered down at miniature cars and buses and swarms of tiny people scurrying along the streets. The city below him, Joe realized, murmured. The cacophony of honking horns and wailing sirens and rumbling streetcars that had as**saulted his ears at street level were reduced up here to something gentler and more soothing, like the sonorous breathing of an enormous living thing. It was a much bigger, more connected, world than he had ever thought possible. ~ Daniel James Brown

As Merripen gave the ribbons to a stableman at the mews, Amelia glanced toward the end of the alley.
A pair of street youths crouched near a tiny fire, roasting something on sticks. Amelia did not want to speculate on the nature of the objects being heated. Her attention moved to a group - three men and a woman - illuminated in the uncertain blaze. It appeared two of the men were engaged in fisticuffs. However, they were so inebriated that their contest looked like a performance of dancing bears.
The woman's gown was made of gaudily colored fabric, the bodice gaping to reveal the plump hills of her breasts. She seemed amused by the spectacle of two men battling over her, while a third attempted to break up the fracas.
"'Ere now, my fine jacks," the woman called out in a Cockney accent, "I said I'd take ye both on - no need for a cockfight!"
"Stay back," Merripen murmured.
Pretending not to hear, Amelia drew closer for a better view. It wasn't the sight of the brawl that was so interesting - even their village, peaceful little Primrose Place, had its share of fistfights. All men, no matter what their situation, occasionally succumbed to their lower natures. What attracted Amelia's notice was the third man, the would-be peacemaker, as he darted between the drunken fools and attempted to reason with them.
He was every bit as well dressed as the gentlemen on either side … but it was obvious this man was no gentleman. He was black-haired and swa ~ Lisa Kleypas

I've always loved empty stadiums, none more than this one. It feels alive when it's packed and now it looks like it's resting, waiting for next week. This building has seen a lot of things. Billy Cannon's punt return, a crowd so loud it registered on the Richter Scale up the street at the geology department. It's as if all that history leaves Tiger Stadium tired and so it needs to recharge until it's time to wake and do it again. ~ Wright Thompson

. 'Because off-duty cops walk around the city wearing sweatshirts advertising they're cops all the time, never mind it's a hundred degrees outside. And never mind you look like the youngest cop ever recruited in the history of policing.'
He tsks at me. 'Have you never seen 21 Jump Street? ~ Sarah Alderson

Even though they were staring at each other across a busy street, the little old lady and the gang of adolescent skinheads might just as well have been nose to nose. They stared. No one blinked. No one backed down. This little old lady had never in her life backed down before mere adolescents.
Her daughter had what was perhaps a better grasp of what was perhaps reality. "Mama," she said as she shifted her bag of groceries to her other arm, "Come on. Let's go. They're skinheads. Probably up from Bircher country. ~ Barbara Ardinger

Anyone believing the TPP is good for Americans take note: The foreign subsidiaries of U.S.-based corporations could just as easily challenge any U.S. government regulation they claim unfairly diminishes their profits - say, a regulation protecting American consumers from unsafe products or unhealthy foods, investors from fraudulent securities or predatory lending, workers from unsafe working conditions, taxpayers from another bailout of Wall Street, or the environment from toxic emissions. ~ Robert Reich

I could see nothing behind that child's eye. 40
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. ~ T. S. Eliot

Do you know when you cross against traffic? You look down the street and see a car coming, but you know you can get across before it gets to you. So even though there's a DON'T WALK sign, you cross anyway. And there's always a split second when you turn and see that car coming, and you know that if you don't continue moving, it will all be over. That's how I feel a lot of the time. I know I'll make it across. I always make it across. But the car is always there, and I always stop to watch it coming. ~ David Levithan

Nelson Mandela was in jail when I was really young, and Winnie Mandela was one of the biggest faces of the movement. In South Africa we have a common phrase - it's like a chant in the street and at rallies: "Wathint' abafazi, wathint' imbokodo." Which means, "You strike a woman, you strike a rock." ~ Trevor Noah

There's definitely a lot of trash that comes with the prize of being famous. It's a nice gift, but there's a lot of wrapping and paper and junk to cut through. Back then, when a movie came out and people saw you on the street, their reaction was so supercharged that it was scary. It would frighten other people. It used to really rattle me. I mean, everybody would love to have their clothes torn off by a mob of girls, but being screamed at is different. ~ Bill Murray

I conducted an off-site consisting of 25 parents in the Seattle area with an income of $200K+ and whose children are entering kindergarten. The headline is that Galer Street is considered a second-tier school, a fallback option for those who don't get accepted to their first-choice school. Our objective is to move the needle on Galer Street and kick it up into the First-Choice Cluster (FCC) for Seattle's elite. How do we achieve this? What is the secret sauce? ~ Maria Semple