I would like to like to make one thing clear at the very outset and that is, when you speak of a train robbery, this involved no loss of train, merely what I like to call the contents of the train, which were pilfered. We haven't lost a train since 1946, I believe it was - the year of the great snows when we mislaid a small one.
Another train will come. Why rush? Why worry? Why go crazy? Another train will come. And sure enough, another train going my way was pulling into the station. My bad mood evaporated. I entered the car smiling, certain that there would be more missed trains in my life, more closed doors in my face, but there would always be another train rumbling down the tracks in my direction.
It was like the classic scene in the movies where one lover is on the train and one is on the platform and the train starts to pull away, and the lover on the platform begins to trot along and then jog and then sprint and then gives up altogether as the train speeds irrevocably off. Except in this case I was all the parts: I was the lover on the platform, I was the lover on the train. And I was also the train.
If a train doesn't stop at your station, it's simply because it's not your train. Don't try to flag down the conductor and convince them to stop there, even if their own map says that they should just keep going. You may not realize it, but there's another train trying to come toward you, unable to get into your station because a train that doesn't even belong there is being delayed there by your intensity.
While walking to the train station early today, my train was about to take off without me. Knowing I had less than two min left, I removed my heels and began running towards the train. About five yards to the train; the doors began shutting on me. A man of honour immediately, restrained it from shutting, and I got on. As I sat down panting for breath; it dawned on me that, the more practical we are, towards the accomplishment of our objectives and yearnings, the more we pull in the right help in fulfilling them.
Am I in the wrong place here, or in the wrong life? Did I not recognize, as I sat in a train that raced past a station and did not stop, that I was on the wrong train, and did I not learn from the conductor that the train would not stop at the next station, either, a hundred kilometers away, and did he not also admit to me, whispering with his hand shielding his mouth, that the train would not stop again at all?
When you train, you should train as if on the battlefield. Make your eyes glare, lower your shoulders and harden your body. If you train with the same intensity and spirit as though you are striking and blocking against an actual opponent, you will naturally develop the same attitude as on a battlefield
'Long Black Train' was inspired by a vision that I had of a long, black train running down this track way out in the middle of nowhere. I could see people standing out to the sides of this track watching this train go by. As I was walking, experiencing this vision, I kept asking myself, 'What does this vision mean and what is this train?'
I once did a Sprite commercial where I had to come out of the train station, jump out of a turnstile, jump on the side of a moving train. I had to run down the top of this moving train while it was going through the mountains and valleys. It was really hairy. I got my honorary stuntwoman card for that. I was proud.
On a train from Shimla to Delhi, there was a halt in one of the stations. The train stopped by for few minutes as usual. Sachin was nearing century, batting on 98. The passengers, railway officials, everyone on the train waited for Sachin to complete the century. This Genius can stop time in India!
the long train ride was like traveling through limbo. You weren't anywhere when you were on a train, she decided. You weren't where you had been, and you weren't yet where you were going. You were nowhere. It might be beautiful outside the window-and it was, she had sense enough to realize that-but it wasn't anywhere to her, just a scene passing by that was framed by the train window. (p160)
...the long train ride was like traveling through limbo. You weren't anywhere when you were on a train, she decided. You weren't where you had been, and you weren't yet where you were going. You were nowhere. It might be beautiful outside the window-and it was, she had sense enough to realize that-but it wasn't anywhere to her, just a scene passing by that was framed by the train window. (p160)
IT'S A CITY OF STRANGERS, SOME COME TO WORK, SOME TO PLAY. A CITY OF STRANGERS, SOME COME TO STARE, SOME TO STAY. AND EVERY DAY SOME GO AWAY AND THEY'LL FIND EACH OTHER IN THE CROWDED STREETS AND THE GUARDED PARK PAST THE RUSTY FOUNTAINS AND THE DUSTY TREES WITH THE BATTERED BARKS AND THEY' WALK TOGETHER PAST THE POSTERED WALLS WITH THE CRUDE REMARKS AND THEY MEET AT PARTIES THROUGH THE FRIENDS OF FRIENDS WHO THEY NEVER "DO I PICK YOU UP OR DO I MEET YOU THERE OR SHALL WE LET IT GO?" "DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE? 'CAUSE I LOOKED IN VAIN." "CAN WE SEE EACH OTHER TUESDAY IF IT DOESN'T RAIN?" "LOOK, I'LL CALL YOU IN THE MORNING OR MY SERVICE WILL EXPLAIN." AND ANOTHER HUNDRED PEOPLE JUST GOT OFF OF THE TRAIN. AND ANOTHER HUNDRED PEOPLE JUST GOT OFF OF THE TRAIN, AND ANOTHER HUNDRED PEOPLE JUST GOT OFF OF THE TRAIN, AND ANOTHER HUNDRED PEOPLE JUST GOT OFF OF THE TRAIN. ANOTHER HUNDRED PEOPLE JUST GOT OFF OF THE TRAIN
There's a big link between trains and film. One of the first filmed objects was a train. The clickety-clack of the projector and the clickety-clack of the train are similar. There is the idea of the voyage - every voyage is a story. I wonder if film would have been invented without the train.
Trains are relentless things, aren't they, Monsieur Poirot? People are murdered and die, but they go on just the same. I am talking nonsense, but you know what I mean." "Yes, yes, I know. Life is like a train, Mademoiselle. It goes on. And it is a good thing that that is so." "Why?" "Because the train gets to its journey's end at last, and there is a proverb about that in your language, Mademoiselle." "'Journey's end in lovers meeting.'" Lenox laughed. "That is not going to be true for me." "Yes-yes, it is true. You are young, younger than you yourself know. Trust the train, Mademoiselle, for it is le bon Dieu who drives it." The whistle of the engine came again. "Trust the train, Mademoiselle, " murmured Poirot again. "And trust Hercule Poirot. He knows.