Teardown Steam Quotes

She's right. I don't trust her farther than I can run full-steam in a corset, but she's right. The truth is hard and unfair, but there it is. ~ Libba Bray

You want to go in the steam bath to get your vocals sounding well, but you don't want your fingers to get soft. ~ Brian May

The first day at the power plant I found myself photographing some steam vents on the roof of the structure. And I remember consciously thinking that they were just like trees but they were metal. ~ John Sexton

America is the noisiest country that ever existed. One is waked up in the morning, not by the singing of the nightingale, but by the steam whistle. ~ Oscar Wilde

Be apprised, though, that the Maine Lobster Festival's democratization of lobster comes with all the massed inconvenience and aesthetic compromise of real democracy. See, for example, the aforementioned Main Eating Tent, for which there is a constant Disneyland-grade queue, and which turns out to be a square quarter mile of awning-shaded cafeteria lines and rows of long institutional tables at which friend and stranger alike sit cheek by jowl, cracking and chewing and dribbling. It's hot, and the sagged roof traps the steam and the smells, which latter are strong and only partly food-related. It is also loud, and a good percentage of the total noise is masticatory. ~ David Foster Wallace

I want to be a hybrid fighter. From Pacquiao I was able to learn that a big heart is also essential when in the ring. Get his stamina, never lose steam from the beginning of the fight until the very last round. From Mayweather, yes, you are correct that I am learning to be precise, patient and the change of range. It makes me an unpredictable fighter. Opponents will be confused as to what element I'll use when fighting. ~ Tomoki Kameda

The Scythians take kannabis seed, creep in under the felts, and throw it on the red-hot stones. It smolders and sends up such billows of steam-smoke that no Greek vapor bath can surpass it. The Scythians howl with joy in these vapor-baths, which serve them instead of bathing, for they never wash their bodies with water. ~ Herodotus

I lose my temper at home. I try to control my temper at work. Sometimes, if you are under a lot of pressure, you let off some steam, but I also try not to do that because it's unfair to my wife. ~ Mohamed ElBaradei

A person whose desires and impulses are his own - are the expression of his own nature, as it has been developed and modified by his own culture - is said to have a character. One whose desires and impulses are not his own, has no character, no more than a steam-engine has character ... ~ John Stuart Mill

All of these fanatics were white. They took slavery as a personal insult or affront, a stain upon their name. They had seen women carried off to fancy, or watched as a father was stripped and beaten in front of his child, or seen whole families pinned like hogs into rail-cars, steam-boats, and jails. Slavery humiliated them, because it offended a basic sense of goodness that they believed themselves to possess. And when their cousins perpetrated the base practice, it served to remind them how easily they might do the same. They scorned their barbaric brethren, but they were brethren all the same. So their opposition was a kind of vanity, a hatred of slavery that far outranked any love of the slave. ~ Ta-Nehisi Coates

She was flighty and poor, a French studies major who quoted Simone de Beauvoir. She wiped her runny nose on her coat sleeve when it was snowing, stuck her head out of car windows the way dogs do, the wind fireworking her hair. That woman was gone now. Not that it was her fault. Vast fortunes did that to people. It took them to the cleaners, cruelly starched and steam-pressed them so all their raw edges, all the dirt and hunger and guileless laughter, were ironed out. Few survived real money. ~ Marisha Pessl

Fear is like the steam that fires the combustion engine. You need fear to get a performance going. ~ Rachel Weisz

Us. All regrets, left them in the sea, smiling at life as if it was a beautiful dream, because if one thing is certain, clearing the strange foreigh steam. Like the diamond ring that fits in your finger, we are stronger as a steel linker ~ Lucia Ohanian

They sat islanded in their foreignness, irrelevant now that the holiday season had ended, anachronistic, outstaying their welcome, no longer necessary to anyone's plans. Priorities had shifted; the little town was settling down for its long uninterrupted hibernation. No one came here in the winter. The weather was too bleak, the snow too distant, the amenities too sparse to tempt visitors. And they felt that the backs of the residents had been turned on them with a sigh of relief, reminding them of their transitory nature, their fundamental unreality. And when Monica at last succeeded in ordering coffee, they still sat, glumly, for another ten minutes, before the busy waitress remembered their order.
'Homesick,' said Edith finally. 'Yes.' But she thought of her little house as if it had existed in another life, another dimension. She thought of it as something to which she might never return. The seasons had changed since she last saw it; she was no longer the person who could sit up in bed in the early morning and let the sun warm her shoulders and the light make her impatient for the day to begin. That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself. She bent her head over her coffee, trying to believe that it was the steam rising from the cup that was making her eyes prick. This cannot go on, she thought. ~ Anita Brookner

Electricity, water, gas, and steam course through the walls of my building, keeping it alive. ~ Mason Cooley

They could steam up windows with their kisses, but as soon as they started using
their mouths for other things - like talking - everything got so complicated. ~ Lauren Kate

By now there were whole new Industrial Revolutions going on in the Low Earths; the British seemed to have the building of steam engines and railways in their genes. ~ Stephen Baxter

As I stepped out to face myself in the mirror, reaching a hand to smooth away the steam, I saw myself differently. It was as if I had grown again as I slept, but this time just to fit my own size. As if my soul had expanded, filling out the gaps of the height that had burdened me all these months. Like a balloon filling slowly with air, becoming all smooth and buoyant, I felt like I finally fit within myself, edge to edge, every crevice filled. ~ Sarah Dessen

Form is what transforms the content of a work into its essence. Do you understand? The character of music arises out of its form like steam from water,' Yury Andreevich said. 'With solid understanding of the general laws of form, which encompass all that is amenable to formulation, one can, by groping further, perceive the individual, the particular. Then, subtracting the general, one can sense a residue where wonder lurks in its purest, most undiluted form. Herein lies the goal of theory: the more fully one grasps what is available for comprehension, the more intensely the ineffable shines. ~ Lyudmila Ulitskaya

The steam of meat darkens the light of the spirit ... One hardly can have virtue when one enjoys meat meals and feasts ... ~ Saint Basil

Love's the sum total of all the little things you can never really put your finger on. Love surrounds you like steam in the shower. You can't see the individual drops but you get warm. ~ Jo Nesbo

Many Americans have a romanticized view of trains, rooted in a bygone era of elaborately adorned rail cars lit by flickering gas lamps and pulled by smoke-belching steam locomotives. ~ Alan Huffman

Raven could destroy me. He could twist any one of the missteps I had made around him until he owned me. That he hadn't yet didn't mean he wouldn't ever. It just meant I was of more use to him running on my own steam, making fresh mistakes to compound the old ones than under his auspices. ~ Hailey Edwards

He passed into the galley and was greeted by a cloud of fragrant steam. The exotic scent of spices mingled with the tang of roasting meat. Startled, Gabriel choked on a sip from a tankard. In the corner, Stubb quickly shoved something behind his back. The old men's eyes shone with more than holiday merriment.
"Happy Christmas, Gray." Gabriel extended the tankard to him. "Here. We poured you some wine."
Gray waved it off with a chuckle. "That my new Madeira you're sampling?"
Gabriel nodded as he downed another sip. "Thought I should taste it before you serve it to company. You know, to be certain it ain't poisoned." He drained the mug and set it down with a smile. "No, sir. Not poisoned."
"And the figs? The olives? The spices? I assume you checked them all, too? For caution's sake, of course."
"Of course," Stubb said, pulling his own mug from behind his back and taking a healthy swallow. "Everyone knows you can't trust a Portuguese trader."
Gray laughed. He plucked an olive from a dish on the table and popped it into his mouth. Rich oil coated his tongue. "Did you find the crate easily enough?" he asked Stubb, reaching for another olive.
The old steward nodded. "It's all laid out, just so. Candles, too."
"Feels like Christmas proper." Gabriel tilted his head. "Miss Turner even gave me a gift."
Gray followed the motion, squinting through the steam.
I'll be damned. ~ Tessa Dare

Nine years ago, my sister handed me a paperback she had picked up in an airport shop on her way to India. It was a gloomy-looking book, with a black an white photo of a steam train approaching through fog on the cover. Cutting across the top of the photo was . . . an author's name I did not know: J.K. Rowling. I began to read the novel and by page three, I was hooked. ~ Rachel Falconer

Moist groaned. It was the crack of seven and he was allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day. ~ Terry Pratchett

All smoke and steam...all seems for ever changing, on all sides new forms, phantoms flying after phantoms, while in reality it is all the same and the same again; everything hurrying, flying towards something, and everything vanishing without a trace, attaining to nothing. ~ Ivan Turgenev

Finally, if we add to these observations the remark that Marx owes to the bourgeois economists the idea, which he
claims exclusively as his own, of the part played by industrial production in the development of humanity, and that
he took the essentials of his theory of work-value from Ricardo, an economist of the bourgeois industrial
revolution, our right to say that his prophecy is bourgeois in content will doubtless be recognized. These
comparisons only aim to show that Marx, instead of being, as the fanatical Marxists of our day would
have it, the beginning and the end of the prophecy, participates on the contrary in human nature: he is an
heir before he is a pioneer. His doctrine, which he wanted to be a realist doctrine, actually was realistic
during the period of the religion of science, of Darwinian evolutionism, of the steam engine and the
textile industry. A hundred years later, science encounters relativity, uncertainty, and chance; the
economy must take into account electricity, metallurgy, and atomic production. The inability of pure
Marxism to assimilate these successive discoveries was shared by the bourgeois optimism of Marx's time.
It renders ridiculous the Marxist pretension of maintaining that truths one hundred years old are
unalterable without ceasing to be scientific. Nineteenth-century Messianism, whether it is revolutionary or
bourgeois, has not resisted the successive developments of this ~ Albert Camus

Smooth sailing is what I hope for. No, I'm okay with no big ups, no big downs, it's all right. Just go full steam ahead, all things well and good, yeah. I mean as a family man, all you want is, as a dad, pure happiness for your kids, that's a universal parent thing. Yeah, that's it, that's my dream, happy kids. ~ Johnny Depp

I think magic went out when people began to have steam-engines, and newspapers, and telephones and wireless telegraphing. ~ E. Nesbit

The sidewalks were haunted by dust
ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up,
swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on
the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol-
lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a
volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every-
where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable
dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon-
taneous combustion at three in the morning.

Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for
element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no
sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep
over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene
vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were
brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high-
tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat
above the unslept houses.
The cicadas sang louder and yet louder.
The sun did not rise, it overflowed. ~ Ray Bradbury

Whatever San Francisco is or is not, it is never dull. Life there is in a perpetual ferment. It is as though the city kettle had been set on the stove to boil half a century ago and had never been taken off. The steam is pouring out of the nose. The cover is dancing up and down. The very kettle is rocking and jumping. But by some miracle the destructive explosion never happens. ~ Inez Haynes Irwin

You all know how powerful and varied are the effects of which steam engines are capable; with them has really begun the great development of industry which has characterised our century before all others. ~ Hermann Von Helmholtz

Private capitalism makes a steam engine; State capitalism makes pyramids. ~ Frank Chodorov

Going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for dinner. ~ Ray Bradbury

Step on the moist, pillowsoft earth, walking gingerly aside a weeping steam that calls your name, for it knows how to heal a wounded heart. ~ Maximillian Degenerez

Desire is the ingredient that changes the hot water of mediocrity to the steam of outstanding success. ~ Zig Ziglar

At times the engine stopped, and grown-ups and children climbed out of the carriages with tins to collect water from the engine steam pipes. This was the only drinking water that we had access to, and though it was hot and very rusty, it was the best drink I felt I'd ever had. ~ Alfred Nestor

And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she'd be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she'd boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she'd let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she'd wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed. ~ Etgar Keret

Holding each other, the rain cooling their bodies, they laughed like children. "I expected steam this time," Jacques said, crushing her to him.
"Can you do that?" Shea fit the back of her head into the niche of his sternum. One hand idly slid over the heavy muscles of his chest.
"Make us so hot we turn the rain to steam?" He grinned boyishly down at her, for the first time so carefree that he forgot for a moment the torment he had suffered. ~ Christine Feehan

My mother says it is totally fine
if I blow off steam
as long as I speak in an octave
my kindness can still reach. ~ Andrea Gibson

question. On the 20th of July, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson, of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had met this moving mass five miles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first that he was in the presence of an unknown sandbank; he even prepared to determine its exact position when two columns of water, projected by the mysterious object, shot with a hissing noise a hundred and fifty feet up into the air. Now, unless the sandbank had been submitted to the intermittent eruption of a geyser, the Governor Higginson had to do neither more nor less than with an aquatic mammal, unknown till then, which threw up from ~ Jules Verne

What do I think was modernism's subject, then? What was it about? No doubt you can guess my starting point. It was about steam - in both the Malevich and the de Chirico a train still rushes across the landscape. It was about change and power and contingency, in other words, but also control, compression, and captivity - an absurd or oppressive orderliness is haunting the bright new fields and the sunlit squares with their eternally flapping flags. Modernism presents us with a world becoming a realm of appearances - fragments, patchwork quilts of color, dream-tableaux made out of disconnected phantasms. But all of this is still happening in modernism, and still resisted as it is described. The two paintings remain shot through, it seems to me, with the effort to answer back to the flattening and derealizing-the will to put the fragments back into some sort of order. Modernism is agonized, but its agony is not separable from weird levity or whimsy. Pleasure and horror go together in it. Malevich may be desperate, or euphoric. He may be pouring scorn on the idea of collective man, or spelling the idea out with utter childish optimism. We shall never know his real opinions. His picture entertains both.

Modernism was certainly about the pathos of dream and desire in twentieth- century circumstances, but, again, the desires were unstoppable, ineradicable. The upright man will not let go of the future. The infinite still exists at the top of the tower. Even in the Picasso ~ T.J. Clark

I wish to suggest that a man may be very industrious, and yet not spend his time well. There is no more fatal blunderer than he who consumes the greater part of his life getting his living. All great enterprises are self-supporting. The poet, for instance, must sustain his body by his poetry, as a steam planing-mill feeds its boilers with the shavings it makes. You must get your living by loving. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Aerosmith is such a powerful band; I mean, it's like a steam locomotive. ~ Joe Perry

I just felt like I had run out of steam. I just felt like it was my time. ~ Barry Sanders

Science has grown frightfully audacious in these days
swift-footed, ponderous, careering over her iron ways with unslacking pace. This rampant dragon, on which I am mounted, see how he bends his once stiff neck to his rider, champing his checked bit and pawing the dust, impatient to leap around the globe. Genius is prescient, foresees its own might. Man is striving through these iron-ribbed, steam-sped hippogriffs, to recover his lost ubiquity and omnipotence, and threatens soon to grasp in his ample palm, and fix with flaming eye-ball, the elemental forces! ~ Amos Bronson Alcott