Best 12552 quotes in «running quotes» category

Have you ever taken a sober look at any of the mutants who run these Hollywood-gossip sites? What a crew! None of them could ever, ever be stars, which is why they're always trying to "take the piss" from those they envy.

Have you not budged an inch, then? Such is the daily news. Its facts appear to float in the atmosphere.... We should wash ourselves clean of such news. Of what consequence, though our planet explode, if there is no character involved in the explosion? In health we have not the least curiosity about such events. We do not live for idle amusement. I would not run round a corner to see the world blow up.

Having Black hair is unique in that Black women change up styles a lot. You can walk down one street block in New York City and see 10 different hairstyles that Black women are wearing: straight curls, short cuts, braids - we really run the gamut.

Having cakes as a business certainly changes things for me - I don't now sit at home doing a cake for the fun of it anymore. But it's an extremely happy and pleasureable business to run because people are generally buying cakes for celebrations.

Having a true faith is the most difficult thing in the world. Many will try to take it from you.

Having a higher purpose is more than just about profits. You actually end up making more profits in the long run because employees really are a lot more engaged and customers see the higher purpose in the company.

Having a great idea is simply not enough. The eventual goal is vastly more important than any idea. It is how ideas are implemented that counts in the long run

Having heard Clifford Brown play all those fast runs, I used to really practice Clarke trumpet exercises all day long so that I could play fast. That's all I wanted to do. I was like a child with a toy.

Having room to run and having just the space to use your imagination and create stories out of everyday life, I think that had a lot to do with me wanting write. And write songs

Headteachers and governing bodies run schools and that won't change.

Health care is in as bad a shape as it has ever been after eight years of Barack Obama and the Democrat Party running it and running the US economy. It's an absolute disaster. Other areas of the economy are a disaster. Economic growth? There isn't any. It's 1% per quarter, a 4% growth rate per year if we're lucky. There is no expansion. There is no productivity increase.

Health is certainly more valuable than money; because it is by health that money is procured; but thousands and millions are of small avail to alleviate the protracted tortures of the gout, to repair the broken organs of sense, or resuscitate the powers of digestion. Poverty is, indeed, an evil from which we naturally fly, but let us not run from one enemy to another, nor take shelter in the arms of sickness.

Heat radiated off Henry's face. Salty snot ran down his upper lip. A majestic fart propelled him to the top of Section 12, just at the springing of the stadium's curve. He slapped the sign as if high-fiving a teammate. It gave back a game shudder. He was crusing now, darkness be damned, stripping off his sweatshirt and his long underwear top without breaking stride.

He closes his hand around mine and I hold on. I like his hand. It's big and holds easy but sure. It's the kind of hold that says, I got you if you want me, but I'll let you go if you feel like running for a while.

He brought a sensibility and a hard-edged reasonableness to operating restaurants that had a lasting impact on me and still affects how I run all our restaurants today. The passing of 'Restaurant Man' - the original gangsta 'Restaurant Man,' my father - was the passing of an era. No one can replace him.

He can run, but he can't hide.

He can run anytime he wants. I'm giving him the red light.

He can run, steal bases, throw, hit for average, and hit with power like I've never seen. Just don't put him at shortstop.

He'd done as he'd pleased and even had often enjoyed long runs of luck where he hadn't been caught. But the luckiest moment of his life had been being caught.

He did not dare to console her, knowing that it would have been like consoling a tiger run thru by a spear.

He (Darryl Strawberry) is not a dog; a dog is loyal and runs after balls.

Hedge funds are investment pools that are relatively unconstrained in what they do. They are relatively unregulated (for now), charge very high fees, will not necessarily give you your money back when you want it, and will generally not tell you what they do. They are supposed to make money all the time, and when they fail at this, their investors redeem and go to someone else who has recently been making money. Every three or four years they deliver a one-in-a-hundred year flood. They are generally run for rich people in Geneva, Switzerland, by rich people in Greenwich, Connecticut.

. . . he felt himself entering a moment so real he could only run toward it, shouting.

He grinned. It was a wicked grin, the kind that made the blood in Clary's veins run a little faster. "You want to go on a date?" Caught off guard, she stammered. "A wh-what?" "A date," Jace repeated. "Often 'a boring thing you have to memorize in history class,' but in this case, 'an offering of an evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly." "Really?" Clary was not sure what to make of this. "Blisteringly white-hot?" "It's me," said Jace. "Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.

He had on a funny T-shirt, as usual. Today's featured acartoon figure running from a giant T. rex, and it read EXERCISE: SOME MOTIVATIONREQUIRED.

He had tattooed all of the names of the men he had killed on his body...unfortunately he had run out of room.

He had two lives: one, open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people.

He glosses over and doesn't even tell the truth....Here is a guy who is the ultimate flip-flopper running for president, and he's attacking me for not being principled? That doesn't wash.

He had but one eye, and the popular prejudice runs in favor of two.

He had grown up in a country run by politicians who sent the pilots to man the bombers to kill the babies to make the world safer for children to grow up in.

he first make-up crew had three test runs, so by the time we were shooting, they got it down to three hours. They switched make-up crews for Eclipse and they never had any test runs, and they had to figure out what the other team had done, so the first day, I was in the chair for eight hours. But, they adjusted the scar from New Moon to Eclipse. The first time, there was more pullage on my face, so I had a hard time eating. It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable.

He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

He had fangs. So what? Plenty of things not a Dark-Hunter have fangs, including Hollywood actors and kids playing vampire. You should have checked his membership card before you attacked. Good grief, what if you’d run across a Masquerade group?” – Sundown

He had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.

He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.

He is not injured. He's not fit. He's not fit to play football, unfortunately. He played in a reserve game the other day and I could have run about more than he did. I can't pick him.

He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it.

He is accelerating all the time. That last lap was run in 64 seconds and the one before in 62.

He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy.

He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up

He has held me when I have had no more strength and have wondered how I would ever make it. He has held me when I have felt defeated by all that I had to do. When I have run to my El Shaddai, I have never come away wanting. He is my all-sufficient One. O Beloved, do you understand? Have you experienced Him as your El Shaddai? If not, He is waiting - arms opened wide - for you.

He hasn't lost his vision. That's one thing. He's good. The guy is smooth and knows how to set up blocks. He's a veteran, too. It's fun to watch him run. Hopefully everything works out all right physically, but certainly he looks good so far.

He liked to think that Heaven was what each person wanted it to be. He could see no future in lying around on a fluffy white cloud and listening to somebody playing on a harp, a picture of Heaven he had seen numerous times in one form or another. Even if it was that way, his personal preference would have run more to the fiddle.

He knows that you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy.

Hello, Aaron," Brigid said, sliding up to him and running a finger down his chest. "You're looking good . . . as always." Aaron lifted her finger off his shirt and let it drop. "Put some clothing on, Brigid." She smiled up at him. "Why? Tempted?" "Yeah, to cover my eyes.

He lived in chambers that had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.

He looked as though I'd just run over his pet puppy (though no actual puppies were harmed in the formation of that metaphor).

Hello, my sister, Libby, also your daughter, is snogging a potato in my bed. What are you going to do about it?' Dad started yelling uncontrollably. I wonder if he is having the male menopause? If he starts growing breasts, I will definitely be running away with the Circus.

He looks like a greyhound, but he runs like a bus.

He loved her for being so beautiful, and he hated her for it. He loved how she put shiny stuff on her lips for him, and he also reviled her for it. He wanted her to walk home alone, and he wanted to run after her and grab her up before she could take another step.