Domino Love Quotes

The very condition of having Friends is that we should want something else besides Friends. Where the truthful answer to the question "Do you see the same truth?" would be "I see nothing and I don't care about the truth; I only want a Friend," no Friendship can arise - though Affection of course may. There would be nothing for the Friendship to be about; and Friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travellers.

Parents are the barometers of emotions for children and it has a domino effect.

Do you hate the person who tapped the first domino down? Or do you hate the domino for not standing up for itself? And if you are the second domino, and you get toppled, do you hate yourself?

When my assistant strolled into my office one idle Tuesday morning, I had no way of knowing this would be the moment everything changed. A series of dominoes tipping with a clack, all leading to an unexpected and crazy end. One I fear I won't ever recover from.

Choices are like dominoes, one tumbling against the next and then the next until events go out of human control.

You know those French impressionists; all they did was fornicate, drink absinthe, and play dominoes.

What is the nature of life? Life is lines of dominoes falling. One thing leads to another, and then another, just like you'd planned. But suddenly a Domino gets skewed, events change direction, people dig in their heels, and you're faced with a situation that you didn't see coming, you who thought you were so clever.

 'If only I had a passion of some kind; if I loved women, or my work; if I liked coffee, dominoes or cards, I could eat out,' he thought, 'because I'd never spend long enough at home. But alas, nothing amuses me, nothing interests me; and what's more my stomach is wrecked!' 

It’s like a domino effect. After all the time of neatly putting the pieces together, one wrong move, one moment of distraction, and all of it comes falling down. The same happens to us. While ignoring all those moments that happened, all the situations when we wanted to do something, make a move and let our impulses take over, we put them neatly one behind other and now it comes crashing down around us.

Maybe we can order the Domino’s three for $9.99,” he suggested. “That’s easy.” “I’ll order pizza,” she said. “Real pizza.

...Liam had been in the driver's seat, singing along to Derek and the Dominos' "Layla" at the top of his lungs, so off-key that it had even Chubs laughing. Zu had been sitting right behind him, moving in time with the music, her entire body rocking out to the wailing electric guitar...

you looked at the bicycles one way, they looked very solid, like sculpture, with afternoon light glinting cleanly off the chrome handlebars—one, two, three, all in a row. If you looked at them another way, you could see just how thin each kickstand was under the weight of the heavy frame, and how they were poised to fall like dominoes or the skeletons of elephants or like love itself.

When asked by an English poet who was at the table to read the ancient couplet Discite grammatici cur mascula nomina cunnus/ Et cur femineum mentula nomen habet -Teach us, grammarians, why vagina (cunnus) is a masculine noun/ And why penis (mentula) is feminine –Giacomo answered it with a witty pentameter of his own invention: Disce quod a domino nomina servus habet -It is because the slave always takes the name of his master.

As a fantasist, I well understand the power of escapism, particularly as relates to romance. But when so many stories aimed at the same audience all trumpet the same message – And Lo! There shall be Two Hot Boys, one of them your Heart’s Intended, the other a vain Pretender who is also hot and with whom you shall have guilty makeouts before settling down with your One True Love – I am inclined to stop viewing the situation as benign and start wondering why, for instance, the heroines in these stories are only ever given a powerful, magical destiny of great importance to the entire world so long as fulfilling it requires male protection, guidance and companionship, and which comes to an end just as soon as they settle their inevitable differences with said swain and start kissing. I mean to invoke is something of the danger of mob rule, only applied to narrative and culture. Viz: that the comparative harmlessness of individuals does not prevent them from causing harm en masse. Take any one story with the structure mentioned above, and by itself, there’s no problem. But past a certain point, the numbers begin to tell – and that poses a tricky question. In the case of actual mobs, you’ll frequently find a ringleader, or at least a core set of agitators: belligerent louts who stir up feeling well beyond their ability to contain it. In the case of novels, however, things aren’t so clear cut. Authors tell the stories they want to tell, and even if a number of them choose to write a certain kind of narrative either in isolation or inspired by their fellows, holding any one of them accountable for the total outcome would be like trying to blame an avalanche on a single snowflake. Certainly, we may point at those with the greatest (arguable) influence or expostulate about creative domino effects, but as with the drop that breaks the levee, it is impossible to try and isolate the point at which a cluster of stories became a culture of stories – or, for that matter, to hold one particular narrative accountable for the whole.

The very condition of having Friends is that we should want something else besides Friends. Where the truthful answer to the question Do you see the same truth? would be ‘I see nothing and I don’t care about the truth; I only want a Friend’, no Friendship can arise—though Affection of course may. There would be nothing for the Friendship to be about; and Friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travellers.

Only last Sunday, when poor wretches were gay—within the walls playing with children among the clipped trees and the statues in the Palace Garden; walking, a score abreast, in the Elysian Fields, made more Elysian by performing dogs and wooden horses; between whiles filtering (a few) through the gloomy Cathedral of Our Lady to say a word or two at the base of a pillar within flare of a rusty little gridiron-full of gusty little tapers; without the walls encompassing Paris with dancing, love-making, wine-drinking, tobacco-smoking, tomb-visiting, billiard card and domino playing, quack-doctoring, and much murderous refuse, animate and inanimate—only last Sunday, my Lady, in the desolation of Boredom and the clutch of Giant Despair, almost hated her own maid for being in spirits. She cannot, therefore, go too fast from Paris. Weariness of soul lies before her, as it lies behind—her Ariel has put a girdle of it round the whole earth, and it cannot be unclasped—but the imperfect remedy is always to fly from the last place where it has been experienced. Fling Paris back into the distance, then, exchanging it for endless avenues and cross-avenues of wintry trees! And, when next beheld, let it be some leagues away, with the Gate of the Star a white speck glittering in the sun, and the city a mere mound in a plain—two dark square towers rising out of it, and light and shadow descending on it aslant, like the angels in Jacob's dream!

Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I’ve always been interested in heroes, starting with my dad, Phil Robertson, and my mom, Miss Kay. My other heroes are my pa and my granny, who taught me how to play cards and dominoes and everything about fishing (which was a lot), and my three older brothers, who teased me, beat me up, and sometimes let me follow them around. Not much has changed in that department. I’ve always loved movies, and when I was about seven or eight years old, I watched Rocky, Sylvester Stallone’s movie about an underdog boxer who used his fists, along with sheer will, determination, and the ability to endure pain, to make a way for himself. He fought hard but played fair and had a soft spot for his friends. I fell in love with Rocky. He was my hero, and I became obsessed. When I decide to do something, I’m all in; so I found a pair of red shorts that looked like Rocky’s boxing trunks and a navy blue bathrobe with two white stripes on the sleeve and no belt. I took off my shirt and ran around bare-chested in my robe and shorts. Most kids I knew went through a superhero phase, but they picked DC Comics guys, like Batman or Superman. Not me. I was Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion, and proud of it. Mom let me run around like that for a couple of years, even when we went in to town. Rocky had a girlfriend, Adrian, who was always there, always by his side. When he was beaten and blinded in a bad fight, he called out for her before anybody else. “Yo, Adrian!” he shouted in his Philly-Italian accent. He needed her. Eventually, I grew up, and the red shorts and blue bathrobe didn’t fit anymore, but I always remembered Rocky’s kindness and his courage. And that every Rocky needs an Adrian.

I have brought the heather-mixture suit, as the climatic conditions are congenial. To-morrow, if not prevented, I will endeavour to add the brown lounge with the faint green twill.' 'It can't go on - this sort of thing - Jeeves.' 'We must hope for the best, sir.' 'Can't you think of anything to do?' 'I have been giving the matter considerable thought, sir, but so far without success. I am placing three silk shirts - the dove-coloured, the light blue, and the mauve - in the first long drawer, sir.' 'You don't mean to say you can't think of anything, Jeeves?' 'For the moment, sir, no. You will find a dozen handkerchiefs and the tan socks in the upper drawer on the left.' He strapped the suit-case and put it on a chair. 'A curious lady, Miss Rockmetteller, sir.' 'You understate it, Jeeves.' He gazed meditatively out of the window. 'In many ways, sir, Miss Rockmetteller reminds me of an aunt of mine who resides in the south-east portion of London. Their temperaments are much alike. My aunt has the same taste for the pleasures of the great city. It is a passion with her to ride in taxi-cabs, sir. Whenever the family take their eyes off her she escapes from the house and spends the day riding about in cabs. On several occasions she has broken into the children's savings bank to secure the means to enable her to gratify this desire.' 'I love to have these little chats with you about your female relatives, Jeeves,' I said coldly, for I felt that the man had let me down, and I was fed up with him. 'But I don't see what all this has got to do with my trouble.' 'I beg your pardon, sir. I am leaving a small assortment of our neckties on the mantelpiece, sir for you to select according to your preference. I should recommend the blue with the red domino pattern, sir.

Fight for her. But more than that… fight for yourself. Don’t be afraid of the disorder that love causes. It crashes around you. It blinds you. It heals you. But, more than anything else, Dillan, when you find the right one, it no longer feels like chaos. It’s like a series of falling dominos that pierces your heart. It elevates you into another plain of existence. All at once you realize you’ve never breathed real life until you truly experience love. Breathe, Dillan. Just… breathe. ~ Tanner Nguyen

Happiness, to me, was no different than Mom's paprikalaced domino bars: something that looked sweet until you took a bite, and then made you want to vomit.

I didn’t try to push you out of the way that night. Emily was coming up behind you, and I wanted to get to her. So, I shoved you, hoping you would fall into her like dominoes.” I shrug. “It worked.” He laughs, his chest filling with chuckles. “I know.” “You did?” How the hell did he know that? “Yes, I saw the look on your face. No one is that scared over a man who has treated him like a piece of shit.” He sits back and regards me, his eyes narrowing. “When you saw that car coming, you had this look that told me that you were completely in love with my daughter and that you would sacrifice yourself for her.” He nods toward the ring. “That’s why I gave you my blessing. Not because you saved my life.” “Oh.” I probably sound like an idiot, but I don’t know what to say.

I’m not saying I don’t care about good-tasting pizza, but often the largest discernible difference between a Domino’s and the local pizzeria is that the latter one offers pizza sold by the slice. I never understood the big appeal of buying pizza by the slice. “Can you reheat a slice from that pizza that has been sitting out for a couple of hours?” It feels like you are eating someone else’s pizza. My major issue with the pizza delivery chains is their interpretation of sizes. Based on Domino’s “large” pizza, a small pizza would be roughly the size of a dog bowl. Because you are not actually in the restaurant, you can’t complain about the size. You’re not going to have the delivery guy send it back to the kitchen. Of course, I prefer pizza from Lombardi’s to Domino’s, but in the end all pizza is great. Everyone loves pizza. When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s an indication you have an unhealthy obsession with pizza. I know I do.

Marguerite changed the CD to, of all people, Derek and the Dominos, because “Bell Bottom Blues” had been Candace’s favorite song. It was her anthem.

The November Road Playlist “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”—Bob Dylan “’Round Midnight”—Billy Taylor Trio “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?”—The Shirelles “Follow the Yellow Brick Road” from The Wizard of Oz—Judy Garland “How Can You Lose”—Art Pepper “Night and Day”—Ella Fitzgerald “I Saw Her Standing There”—The Beatles “Jack O’Diamonds”—Ruth Brown “Ring of Fire”—Johnny Cash “Somebody Have Mercy”—Sam Cooke “Something Cool”—June Christy “Prisoner of Love”—James Brown “It’s My Party”—Lesley Gore “Blowin’ in the Wind”—Peter, Paul and Mary “I’m Walkin’”—Fats Domino “You’re Getting to Be a Habit with Me”—Frank Sinatra “’Round Midnight”—Thelonious Monk

For as the body is clad in the cloth, and the flesh in the skin, and the bones in the flesh, and the heart in the whole, so are we, soul and body, clad in the Goodness of God, and enclosed.

The people may have been resilient, but so were the factions who would break us. We had to be adamant not only in our hope, but in our fierce defense of everything we loved.

Whenever Domino’s introduces a new product, there’s always a part of me that thinks, I don’t know if you guys have mastered the pizza yet.

When you give me the chance, I’m going to love you down pretty lady, until your heart can’t take anymore.

I just know that you’re part of me, now. You’re embedded. Your name, etched right on my heart. And, for the rest of my life, I want to keep loving on you, keep falling in love with you. Soon as you’re all better and feeling like yourself again after giving me the greatest gift ever, I’m locking it down for life. I’m telling you now so don’t freak out on me, pretty lady. Tell ya’ nigga yes when he asks you to marry him. Alright?

How did I get here? I was happy once. Loving. Optimistic. I didn’t have a care in the world. Then Jacob changed everything, instigating a domino effect I had no control over.

Anita,” Jason said. I looked at him and J.J. “You okay?” I shrugged. “I think this is the most complicated BDSM scene I’ve tried without Jean-Claude or Asher involved. It’s like we have all this talent and potential, but no one is in charge.” That was all true. It wasn’t exactly what was spooking me, but it was still part of the truth. It also meant that they’d probably quit asking me what was wrong. “I cannot be with Asher,” Jade said. I shook my head. “I wasn’t suggesting it, just not sure who’s directing everything.” “We’ve made love with Nathaniel in bed with us before,” she said, her voice soft, low, and strangely musical. Her voice didn’t always sound that way, but it often did when she was trying to persuade, or I guess manipulate me. I’d asked her if she’d had theater training, but she didn’t seem to know what I meant, so I’d let it go. I let a lot of things go with Jade, even I knew that, but when she puzzled me enough I stepped back rather than pushing. I wasn’t sure if I was growing up, or she was winning. “You’re in charge, Anita,” Domino said, “so be in charge. What do you want to do?” In my head I thought, Leave. Maybe it showed on my face, because he said, “Do what you enjoy and Jade will follow your lead.” Jade nodded. “Really?” I asked her. “Truly,” she said. “Okay, I know what I want to do.” “I will follow where you lead,” she said. I knew it was both the truth and a lie. She’d follow me for a while, until she decided she didn’t want to, or she got too uncomfortable, then she’d do whatever the hell she wanted to do and somehow it would be my fault, again. I was starting to seriously sympathize with the men who were dating me.

If we get them superfat, so fat they can’t leave the house, then they have to call us again.” I call it the “Domino’s effect.

In a commencement speech at the University of Texas in 2014, William H. McRaven explained this concept in a simple message he gave to those seeking success: “Make your bed in the morning.” McRaven argues this seemingly insignificant detail starts your day off with accomplishment. You start by fighting the resistance we’re all going to experience. By simply committing to action and rising up to the challenge of making our bed, we create a domino effect that leads to us challenging our bodies, minds, and spirits. This concept is simple: Your life will show proof of your principles and your deeply rooted integrity. If you can’t build the muscle of persistence during low-stakes situations, it’ll become incredibly difficult to show up when the stakes are high.

It was amazing how complex the domino effect was. One small comment or event could transform the world in ways unknown. There were positive and negative ways to address situations that could alter things for the better or worse—like inspiring the man to love himself a little more and strive to improve his condition.

It was the kind of game the Countess loved. Listening to the rumors about his mystery model, he would probe his nasty smile with his cigarette holder and his dentures would clack like a goose eating dominoes.