Ran Quotes
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From the age of 14 until I was 50, I just got on a treadmill and ran. I never stopped to assess what I was doing or to pat myself on the back.
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A lot of times when I ran, to be honest, I didn't know where I was in the race. So I always was looking up at the scoreboard to say, 'Just call my name to see where I am,' because I tried to have such tunnel vision not to distract myself.
Gail Devers
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Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me. Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted.
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The doorknob twisted. “I’m coming with you.” I ran over and held it shut. “No, you are so not. We can’t carry your unconscious body around the Center. Besides, I need you here. If something goes wrong, I can’t handle you getting hurt.” “Wait, so it’s okay if I get hurt?” Jack asked. “Yes,” I snapped at the same time as Lend and Arianna. “As long as you’re sure, then,” Jack muttered.
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What did Bush do on 9/11? He ran away and hid. Even Reagan knew more about leadership than that, and he was as bad a symbol of America as I can think of, off-hand. But at least he's been in enough cowboy movies to know he had to come out and stand on top of the rubble and be seen shaking his fist or something.
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When I was 8, I got a little toy propeller plane: You could turn it on and the people disappeared from the little windows and stewardesses appeared, and it ran along the ground.
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Never ran away for the sake of scars.
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It was only when the giant got halfway down the incline that he suddenly, happily, burst into flame and continued his trip saying, "NO SURVIVORS, NO SURVIVORS!" in a manner that could only indicate deadly sincerity. It was seeing him happily burning and advancing that startled the Brute Squad to screaming. And once that happened, why, everybody panicked and ran.
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My coach said I ran like a girl, I said if he could run a little faster he could too
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NANCY DREW began peeling off her garden gloves as she ran up the porch steps and into the hall to answer the ringing telephone. She picked it up and said, “Hello!”
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The only proper suit-and-tie job I've had in my life was the two years in the late 1980s when I ran a small corporate publishing company. I even had a Ford Sierra!
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Society is an insane asylum ran by the inmates.
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The only thing I ran into is that I am a wanderlust, as far as travel and adventure. I will go off on any given moment with the family and friends to explore the world. I go around the world once a year. I go to Africa, you know, Russia, wherever... I love it.
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My slogan when I ran was that there is no such thing as government money, there is only taxpayer's money, and that cut pretty deep.
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When the Kiwis ran onto the field we could see the poor bastards were shitting themselves.
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It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.
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I ran for myself, not Finland.
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My Mama Moved Among the Days My Mama moved among the days like a dreamwalker in a field; seemed like what she touched was here seemed like what touched her couldn't hold, she got us almost through the high grass then seemed like she turned around and ran right back in right back on in
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We ran as if to meet the moon.
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I feel like the seventies was a decade where things ran out, and where other things set in. There was just a lurking graininess and seediness about the decade, a slight grogginess of the hangover from the sixties.
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They almost ran me off the road several times. There are so many chances that they take to get the right photo.
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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.
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The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.
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I ran to the house and fire was already shooting out some of the windows.
