Best 75 quotes in «bridge quotes» category

Against all odds, when the 'no' out-weighs the 'yes' faith become the only bridge to your answer

A bridge which took you across to the other side is the strongest bridge no matter how rotten it is!

Action is the bridge between thought and reality.

At 2:00 sharp on the afternoon of his internment, with his body resting in a casket in the front room of his home, the pallbearers--all bridge players--stuck a deck of cards in Mr. Hampton's cold hands, shut the lid over his head, and played bridge.

A scary bridge is better than a precipice without bridge!

A vision is such a bridge that connects with physical reality and spiritual insight.

Avoid hating people because you might have destroyed the bridge you have just used to cross the river; you'll need that bridge to cross again when returning!

Belief acts as a temporary bridge when we are trying to accept something that seems incomprehensible. We use belief and simply accept the workings we cannot understand until the time comes when at last we comprehend.

...Because beauty is typically the result of a few qualities working in concert, it can take more to guarantee the appeal of a bridge or a house than strength alone. (p 205)

Because life has many deep valleys and bottomless precipices, you will always need high bridges and resolution is the highest bridge you can ever have!

Believing there is a bridge from where you are to where you want to go is 99% of the battle. The other 1% is to cross it.

Be like a bridge; be on this side, be on the other side and be on no side! In other words, be in everywhere because the highest wisdom can be attained only by being everywhere!

Captain Harald Biscay rubbed his graying temples, staring deep in thought at the vast star field showing on the large navigation display on the bridge. It had been a pretty rough few days for him. Of all the things he’d seen in his travels through the universe, not many rated worthy of being remembered. Of the few examples of items Captain Biscay rated that highly, when he was a young man, his uncle would often play the bagpipes at strange hours of the night – shortly before being put in a ‘home’. That rated a mention.

Bridges take people across rivers. Leaders take people across ignorance. With a leader, the destination of a journey is sure.

Connect with people who are going where you are going. Don’t hate people. The person you may need later may be likened to the bridge you have destroyed after crossing it. You’ll need that bridge when returning.

Communication is not a two way street. It is a bridge. Either you have one or you build one. It's about connecting, not correcting.

Do not always walk on the bridge; there is also a world under the bridge! Try different worlds; discover different worlds! Do something different!

Don't blaming your challenge but get up and look it as a bridge to your success.

A refugee is someone who survived and who can create the future.

Every gesture and every look he gives me takes me by surprise and causes my heart to stutter.

Don't burn your bridges until you build better ones.

Give me a moment I am preparing to drawback to scream Louder than a train overhead below a railroad bridge

Hate destroys a bridge but forgiveness rebuilds it.

He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask. I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.

How the things that hold us are only as strong as the faith we have in them-you go on the bridge because you trust it will not fall the fingers will clasp because we trust them to.

Here's the thing," he said. "People see me as a bridge. I'm not as alive as I used to be, but I'm not yet dead. I'm sort of...in-between

He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.

He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

How strange is it that our beloved finds its way to us in everything? The orange moon, a freckle, the smell of coffee— are all bridges to the one we desire. How does our beloved find us in this way? Or are we the ones instead who find our beloved in everything? Our intense want of them necessitates the nearness of them. And so we seek beauty only to be flooded with the beauty of our beloved. And we write ellipses on the page only to be thrice reminded of the freckle below their lips...

How to uplift others. It’s not a pie, it’s a cake. It’s not a ladder, it’s a bridge.

If art is the bridge between what you see in your mind and what the world sees, then skill is how you build that bridge.

I freeze, my feet suddenly glued to the floor. It takes me a minute to gather the courage to turn around, but when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. The boy is standing in the doorway at the end of the hall. Why is he here again? I barely allow myself time to ask the question before I move. Panicked, I turn and run back downstairs as fast as I can. "Hey! Wait!" he calls after me. I don't stop.

If you are fed up with this world, go to a bridge for a walk, because bridge is another world!

If you are good at building bridges, you will never fall into the abyss!

If you do not build bridges, precipices become your fate!

I grab the nearest lamppost when my knees threaten to give out, panting for breath as the words rip through me

I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.

Lonely. My heart grips as the word crosses my mind. So many different feelings come with the word, not just loneliness. The word went beyond its definition. Loneliness has a deeper meaning to those who truly know what it means to be alone.

I'm being pulled under - father and farther from the surface. My lungs continue to scream for air. Panic is building inside me, threatening to combust. I can't break free. Help! I can't break free! I open my mouth to scream.

I take in all the colorful locks that line the bridge. Each one told a story. Each lock represented a relationship that was once special, whether it ended or turned into true happiness. The locks represented a past, present, and a possible future.

If the other side is better, no matter how the bridge is dangerous, cross to the other side!

It's just a game,” she says. Make no mistake: people who say it's just a game are out for blood.

It is easier to cross a burning bridge with God than a safe highway with the Devil.

It takes a leader to create the momentum, it takes a vision to direct the momentum, it takes a massive action to build on the momentum, and it takes self-discipline to sustain the momentum. Momentum is the bridge between a vision and its results.

Never set fire to a bridge while you are still crossing it.

One of his hands move away from my face to flatten against my back, pulling me closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He parts my lips under his as my mind seems to sign quietly in content. I kiss him back as fiercely as he kisses me, unable to control the infatuation that rushes through me - feeling almost like fireworks. Not so careful anymore. Little shivers of urgency shoot through me. I push off the window, pressing closer to him. The rush of sensation that is coursing through me feels like I've drunk a gallon of coffee. It feels like an electric buzz is flooding between us.

On the way we talked about the road sign Bridge Ices Before Road. I always wondered, If that's a problem, why don't they just build the bridge out of the same stuff they use to build the road? Drema explained that the bridge isn't made out of different material than the road, but that the bridge ices quicker because it's alone, hanging there without the land under it to keep it warm.

Our love is perfect. And even though we may not be, our love creates a bridge that spans over our imperfections and joins us where it matters.

Stop fighting me!" he said, trying to pull on the arm he held. He was in a precarious position himself, straddling the rail as he tried to lean over far enough to get me and actually hold onto me. “Let go of me!” I yelled back. But he was too strong and managed to haul most of me over the rail, enough so that I wasn’t in total danger of falling again. See, here’s the thing. In that moment before I let go, I really had been contemplating my death. I’d come to terms with it and accepted it. I also, however, had known Dimitri might do something exactly like this. He was just that fast and that good. That was why I was holding my stake in the hand that was dangling free. I looked him in the eye. "I will always love you." Then I plunged the stake into his chest. It wasn’t as precise a blow as I would have liked, not with the skilled way he was dodging. I struggled to get the stake in deep enough to his heart, unsure if I could do it from this angle. Then, his struggles stopped. His eyes stared at me, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one. "That’s what I was supposed to say. . .” he gasped out. Those were his last words.

Every subject, figure, and relation require a direct bridge, for a stable, steady and secure connection of amenable; otherwise, occurs failure, and ineffectual repercussion.