Slams Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
you-want-to-try-win-as-many-slams-as-possible-in-your-career-as-tennis-player-thats-what-we-always-dream-as-kid-wanting-to-play-slams-wanting-to-win-them
i-want-to-play-my-best-tennis-at-grand-slams
everybody-believes-they-can-win-now-thats-why-there-are-many-upsets-in-grand-slams
the-impatient-man-is-his-own-enemy-he-slams-door-on-his-own-progress-idries-shah
fear-slams-door-on-belief-hope-faith-charles-f-glassman
complaining-opens-door-to-conflict-thankfulness-slams-it-shut-evinda-lepins
to-win-grand-slams-you-have-to-be-in-right-frame-mind-right-physical-shape-jennifer-capriati
ohkay-slams-door-i-am-montinator-if-monster-came-in-decided-to-stay-alvin-the-chipmunks
when-i-was-kid-i-was-always-dreaming-to-one-day-be-no-1-player-in-world-to-win-grand-slams
its-always-good-to-get-a-smaller-tournament-under-your-belt-so-that-by-the-time-you-get-to-the-slams-you-have-a-lot-of-experience
were-breaking-records-were-moving-forward-i-always-expected-to-win-grand-slams-this-was-meant-to-be-venus-williams
i-can-remember-watching-federer-win-grand-slams-on-tv-when-i-was-kid-trying-to-put-myself-in-his-shoes
you-always-love-playing-in-finals-at-any-tournament-the-grand-slams-stuff-like-that-are-obviously-priorities-but-any-titles-go-on-your-record-lleyton-hewitt
im-not-necessarily-proud-world-cups-grand-slams-won-lost-amount-points-i-scored-this-record-that
littleknown-fact-when-stock-exchange-closes-guy-who-comes-out-on-balcony-with-that-big-hammer-slams-it-on-head-person-who-lost-most-money-that-george-carlin
the-art-romance-though-warning-us-that-it-is-providing-fictions-opens-door-into-palace-absurdity-when-we-have-lightly-stepped-inside-slams-it-umberto-eco
its-unbelievable-it-never-gets-too-old-the-biggest-goal-in-my-career-is-winning-grand-slams-i-dont-have-great-record-in-finals-but-im-getting-closer-daniel-nestor
time-again-human-consciousness-fixates-slams-door-on-its-greatest-gift-openendedness-infinite-possibility-as-result-we-do-not-experience-reality-jose-arguelles
for-long-people-have-just-taken-what-i-do-for-granted-it-is-not-easy-to-do-yearin-yearout-to-win-grand-slams-be-no-1-pete-sampras
for-me-most-other-players-too-if-you-had-to-pick-one-four-grand-slams-you-would-pick-wimbledon-its-got-tradition-its-got-atmosphere-its-got-mystique
everyone-is-fighting-like-crazy-because-its-last-grand-slam-when-you-play-grand-slams-you-just-have-to-give-everything-you-have-simona-halep
my-back-slams-against-oven-door-i-cover-my-face-cry-i-cry-hard-i-cant-breathe-cassie-mae
modesty-is-learned-affectation-and-as-soon-as-life-slams-modest-person-against-wall-that-modesty-drops-maya-angelou
poetry-slams-too-often-are-gathering-metaphors-who-likened-all-things-to-all-other-things-never-identifying-essencesleaving-nothing-as-core-lonnie-d-hicks
theres-old-saying-about-truth-setting-you-free-dont-buy-it-sometimes-truth-slams-cell-door-shut-throws-thousand-bolts-rick-yancey
perfection-i-have-been-waiting-all-my-life-to-be-with-you-my-heart-slams-against-my-ribs-when-i-think-slaughtered-nights-i-spent-all-over-world-henry-rollins
tennis-players-are-fortunate-that-unlike-some-disciplines-sport-in-mega-sporting-events-like-grand-slams-they-have-huge-platform-to-showcase-their-talents-on-world-stage-once-eve
he-gives-i-take-he-bangs-i-rock-he-slams-i-shatter-he-throws-i-push-he-grinds-i-buckle-he-pants-i-puff-he-wheezes-i-gasp-he-growls-i-scream-he-fcks-me-like-were-porn-stars-lexi-s
now-what-i-expect-s-been-lost-on-some-vile-shit-them-same-rap-jams-is-what-slams-on-radio-do-i-have-to-pay-my-wage-to-be-played-on-97-when-ive-been-ra-rugged-man
the-door-slams-in-response-i-laugh-im-glad-she-can-laugh-it-means-she-really-is-coping-i-know-shes-internalizing-lot-though-putting-on-show-for-me-shell-have-new-scars-on-her-wri
i-dont-need-many-things-i-dont-need-glamour-attention-to-be-happy-im-happy-being-settled-working-my-butt-off-trying-to-win-grand-slams-maria-sharapova
grand-slams-are-funny-things-you-have-to-try-to-find-way-to-get-through-first-week-put-yourself-in-position-in-second-week-a-lot-strange-things-lleyton-hewitt
Inching into the room, it's clear something is wrong here. There's a tingling sensation up my legs and back before I can even really focus on the parlor's details. There are silhouettes of people, but I can see through them. It's like shadows were cast and left behind to do as they please. Lost in the surreal sight of them for a moment, I inch further into the room without noticing that some were now moving behind me. There is no warning. I'm suddenly in the air, and moving backward rapidly toward the wall. It's almost a full second before my body registers the actual pain of the blow my stomach just took. Being hit by a car doesn't even compare to this, and I didn't even see it coming. 'For a shadow, you hit like a sledgehammer!' The words barely escape before something else slams into the base of my skull embedding most of my upper body in the wall and all but removing my head. These things are like Lucy; the disembodied dead who haven't moved on. I've never met others that can actually touch things physically, they must be fairly potent. I pull my face out of the hole it had been planted in, letting plaster dust fall, coating my chest and legs like snow. Looking around quickly I try to gauge my surroundings. I can't see them, but I know they're there. Is one easy night, without a huge dry-cleaning bill, too much to ask for these days? I only have time to dwell on it a moment before my head is bouncing off the hardwood floor; once, twice, and then a third time in quick succession. Now 'pick splinters out of my forehead' can be added to my Saturday night to-do list. Damn it, this is not going as planned.

Dennis Sharpe
inching-into-room-its-clear-something-is-wrong-here-theres-tingling-sensation-up-my-legs-back-before-i-can-even-really-focus-on-parlors-details-there-are-silhouettes-people-but-i
Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?" "I got rid of it, " Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand." "Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [... ] He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running." "Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe-by the side of the road?" Damen nods. But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red. "A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options." Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing-why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight-you just woke up and decided-Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road-WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?" Damen shrugs. "Pretty much." "Because in case you haven't noticed, " Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unusual they're forced to rely on the kindness of friends for the rest of their lives!" "Sorry." Damen shrugs. "Guess I hadn't thought about that. Though if it makes you feel any better, it was all for a very good cause.

Alyson Noel
wheres-your-car-miles-asks-glancing-at-him-as-he-slams-his-door-shut-slings-his-backpack-over-his-shoulder-and-whats-up-with-your-hand-i-got-rid-it-damen-says-gaze-fixed-on-mine-
And at night the river flows, it bears pale stars on the holy water, some sink like veils, some show like fish, the great moon that once was rose now high like a blazing milk flails its white reflection vertical and deep in the dark surgey mass wall river's grinding bed push. As in a sad dream, under the streetlamp, by pocky unpaved holes in dirt, the father James Cassidy comes home with lunchpail and lantern, limping, redfaced, and turns in for supper and sleep. Now a door slams. The kids have rushed out for the last play, the mothers are planning and slamming in kitchens, you can hear it out in swish leaf orchards, on popcorn swings, in the million-foliaged sweet wafted night of sighs, songs, shushes. A thousand things up and down the street, deep, lovely, dangerous, aureating, breathing, throbbing like stars; a whistle, a faint yell; the flow of Lowell over rooftops beyond; the bark on the river, the wild goose of the night yakking, ducking in the sand and sparkle; the ululating lap and purl and lovely mystery on the shore, dark, always dark the river's cunning unseen lips, murmuring kisses, eating night, stealing sand, sneaky. 'Mag-gie!' the kids are calling under the railroad bridge where they've been swimming. The freight train still rumbles over a hundred cars long, the engine threw the flare on little white bathers, little Picasso horses of the night as dense and tragic in the gloom comes my soul looking for what was there that disappeared and left, lost, down a path-the gloom of love. Maggie, the girl I loved.

Jack Kerouac
and-at-night-river-flows-it-bears-pale-stars-on-holy-water-some-sink-like-veils-some-show-like-fish-great-moon-that-once-was-rose-now-high-like-blazing-milk-flails-its-white-refl
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