Quotes for All
Lord Macon deposited his wife into a chair and then knelt next to her, clutching one of her hands. Tell me truthfully – how are you feeling? Alexia took a breath. Truthfully? I sometimes wonder if I, like Madame Lefoux, should affect masculine dress. Gracious me, why? You mean aside from the issue of greater … Read more
She asked him to come and see her that night. He agreed, in order to get away, knowing that he was incapable of going. But that night, in his burning bed, he understood that he had to go see her, even if he were not capable. He got dressed by feel, listening in the dark … Read more
That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death. Emily Dickinson
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,– The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity Emily Dickinson
Our musical alphabet is poor and illogical. Music, which should pulsate with life, needs new means of expression, and science alone can infuse it with youthful vigor. Why, Italian Futurists, have you slavishly reproduced only what is commonplace and boring in the bustle of our daily lives. I dream of instruments obedient to my thought … Read more
Hurry, drive and bustle … Everybody looking out for number one, and caring little who jostled past, if their rights were not infringed. Fanny Fern
Wonder is a very subtle, precious emotion, often lost in the gross hustle and bustle of modern life. When we feel wonder, we are immediately reminded of the purity and innocence of our childhood. Then, everything was magical and mysterious. Magic should help us relive that wonder. Doug Henning
The appearance presented by the streets of London an hour before sunrise, on a summer’s morning, is most striking even to the few whose unfortunate pursuits of pleasure, or scarcely less unfortunate pursuits of business, cause them to be well acquainted with the scene. There is an air of cold, solitary desolation about the noiseless … Read more
For the perfect idler, for the passionate observer it becomes an immense source of enjoyment to establish his dwelling in the throng, in the ebb and flow, the bustle, the fleeting and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel at home anywhere; to see the world, to be at the very … Read more
I actually wrote the song first as “well, it’s 9 o’clock on a Saturday.” That bit. Then I said, You know what? It needs some kind of an introduction to kind of set the mood and set the flavor. So I just played this kind of cocktail lounge thing, the hustle and bustle of waitresses … Read more