Getaway House Quotes

When tragedy hits close to home, like your neighbor’s house, it really makes you stop and think. And while you’re thinking, I’ll be speeding off in the getaway car.

I'll teach you later, but for now I just need someone to watch the signs for me. Come on up to the copilot chair." I jerked a thumb in the direction of Chubs. Liam only shook his head. "Are you kidding me? Yesterday he thought a mailbox was a clown." I unbuckle my seat belt with a sigh. As I climbed over Chubs's outstretched legs to the front, I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes going to his too-small glasses. " Is his eyesight really that bad?" "Worse," Liam said. "So, right after we got the hell out of Caledonia, we broke into this house to spend the night, right? I woke up in the middle of the night hearing the most awful noise, like a cow dying or something. I followed the wailing, clutching some kid's baseball bat, thinking I was going to have to beat someone's head in for us to make a clean getaway. then I saw what was sitting at the bottom of a drained pool." "No way," I said. "Way," he confirmed. "Hawkeye had gone out to relieve himself and had somehow missed the giant gaping hole in the ground. Twisted his ankle and couldn't climb out of the deep end. I tried so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. The mental image was just too damn good.

When tragedy hits close to home, like your neighbor’s house, it really makes you stop and think. And while you’re thinking, I’ll be speeding off in the getaway car. 


Is his eyesight really that bad?" "Worse," Liam said. "So right after we got the hell out of Caledonia, we broke into this house to spend, right? I woke up in the middle of the night hearing the most awful noise, like a cow dying or something. I followed the wailing, clutching some kid's baseball bat, thinking I was going to have to bad someone's head in for us to make a clean getaway. Then I saw what was sitting at the bottom of the drained pool." "No way," I said. "Way," he confirmed. "Hawkeye had gone out to relieve himself and had somehow missed the giant gaping hole in the ground. Twisted his ankle and couldn't climb out of the deep end.

to pull away. “I promise this dog will not hurt you,” he said. “This is a golden retriever. He has a scary bark because he’s big, but he would let anyone into the house. For a belly rub, he’d help the thieves carry the valuables to their getaway car.

Russell had told me how Carlos Marcello liked to send to Sicily for war orphans with no families. They would get smuggled in from Canada, like through Windsor, right across the water from Detroit. The Sicilian war orphans would think they had to take care of a matter and then they could stay in America and maybe they’d be given a pizza parlor or something. They would go paint a house and then they would get in the getaway car and be taken somewhere and their house would get painted and nobody back in Sicily would miss them. Because they were orphans and had no family there would be no vendettas, which are very popular things in Sicily. Carlos

A Day Away We often think that our affairs, great or small, must be tended continuously and in detail, or our world will disintegrate, and we will lose our places in the universe. That is not true, or if it is true, then our situations were so temporary that they would have collapsed anyway. Once a year or so I give myself a day away. On the eve of my day of absence, I begin to unwrap the bonds which hold me in harness. I inform housemates, my family and close friends that I will not be reachable for twenty-four hours; then I disengage the telephone. I turn the radio dial to an all-music station, preferably one which plays the soothing golden oldies. I sit for at least an hour in a very hot tub; then I lay out my clothes in preparation for my morning escape, and knowing that nothing will disturb me, I sleep the sleep of the just. On the morning I wake naturally, for I will have set no clock, nor informed my body timepiece when it should alarm. I dress in comfortable shoes and casual clothes and leave my house going no place. If I am living in a city, I wander streets, window-shop, or gaze at buildings. I enter and leave public parks, libraries, the lobbies of skyscrapers, and movie houses. I stay in no place for very long. On the getaway day I try for amnesia. I do not want to know my name, where I live, or how many dire responsibilities rest on my shoulders. I detest encountering even the closest friend, for then I am reminded of who I am, and the circumstances of my life, which I want to forget for a while. Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, lovers, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence. Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us. We need hours of aimless wandering or spates of time sitting on park benches, observing the mysterious world of ants and the canopy of treetops. If we step away for a time, we are not, as many may think and some will accuse, being irresponsible, but rather we are preparing ourselves to more ably perform our duties and discharge our obligations. When I return home, I am always surprised to find some questions I sought to evade had been answered and some entanglements I had hoped to flee had become unraveled in my absence. A day away acts as a spring tonic. It can dispel rancor, transform indecision, and renew the spirit.

I don’t know if you’ve spent time in the Catskills. From a distance, say, the parking lot of the old Caldor’s (which became an Ames that became a Stop ‘N’ Shop) in Huguenot, they’ve always made me think of a herd of giant animals, all standing grazing on the horizon. Up close, when you’re driving among them with the early morning light breaking over their round peaks, they seem incredibly present, more real than real, these huge solid heaps of rock that wear their trees like mile-long scarves. You glance at them, trying to keep your eyes on the road, which is already pretty busy with people driving up for a weekend getaway, and somehow you wouldn’t be surprised if the mountain closest to you were to cast off its trees in one titanic shrug and start to lumber away, a vast, unimaginable beast. When you turn off onto whatever secondary road you need to take, and you’re following its twists and turns back into the mountains, and the ground is steep to either side of you, opening every now and then on a meadow, or an old house, you think, Here, there are secret places. Well,

That's the beauty of discipline. It trumps everything. A lot of us are born with minimal talent, unhappy in our own skin and with the genetic makeup with which we were born. We have fucked-up parents, grow up bullied and abused, or are diagnosed with learning disabilities. We hate our hometown, our teachers, our families, and damn near everything about ourselves. We wish we could be born again as some other motherfucker in some other time and place. Well, I am proof that rebirth is possible through discipline, which is the only thing capable of altering your DNA. It is the skeleton key that can get you past all the gatekeepers and into each and every room you wish to enter. Even the ones built to keep you the fuck out! ... Discipline builds mental endurance because when effort is your main priority, you stop looking for everything to be enjoyable. Our phones and social media have turned too many of us inside out with envy and greed as we get inundated with other people's success, their new cars and houses, big contracts, resort vacations, and romantic getaways. We see how much fun everyone else is having and feel like the world is passing us by, so we bitch about it and then wonder why we are not where we want to be. When you become disciplined, you don't have time for that bullshit. p140

I can’t get over the view. I spent most of the night sitting on the third-floor balcony watching the boats.” Don’t sing to them or they’ll crash on the rocks. The thought catches me off guard, but it sticks. I can picture her up there, dark hair flying around in the wind, beckoning to passing sailors. Will I ever get to see her up there? “You like the house?” I rasp. She shrugs one shoulder. And coming from Addison, that’s a resounding yes. “It reminds me of you.” Why am I holding my breath? “Does it?” “Mmmhmm. Old-fashioned and charming…” She squints at my backside. “With a big old kitchen.” The heat that weaves up my neck is humiliating, but I cough my way through it. I’m not sure if my usual embarrassment is at play, or if I’m remembering for the thousandth time how hard I came when she used that damn finger on me. Was it supposed to make me shake like a damn teenager? “It’s not polite to make ass jokes about your tour guide.” “Oh come on. You know I love that thing.

Simon appeared at the doorway behind Tori and Derek. He waved to me and mouthed "run while you can." Not a bad idea. I snuck around them and zipped out the door to where Simon waited. Then I glanced back at Tori. "Don't worry about her," he said. "Probably the most fun she's had in days." He led me into the next room. "Sadly, I can't say the same for Derek, and as soon as he stops arguing long enough to notice you're gone—" "Hey!" Derek called. "Where are you two going?" Simon took my elbow and steered me at a jog through the house as Derek's footsteps pounded behind us.

It is a fact that consumers worldwide have benefited financially from faster fashion. In countries like the UK and US, the proportion of the household budget spent on clothing has dropped from about 15 percent at the dawn of the twentieth century to 5 percent or less today. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, we've used the savings mainly to pay for rising housing costs and for what they call 'non-necessities', everything from weekend getaways to all the just-plain-stuff that fills homes and storage units.

INTRODUCTION 0 to 3 MONTHS 1. Make the most of your hospital stay 2. Take care of your postpartum body 3. Take baby to the pediatrician . . . several times 4. Take newborn photos 5. Figure out breastfeeding 6. Get some sleep! 7. Manage Mom and Dad 8. Celebrate baby’s first milestones 9. Survive baby witching hour 10. Watch out for the blues 11. Get back in the sack 12. Get out of the house 13. Think about babywearing 3 to 6 MONTHS 14. Find your village 15. Prepare to go back to work, or not 16. Start some routines 17. Tame teething 18. Think about sleep training, or not 19. Teach baby sign language 20. Create a photo book 21. Reconnect with your partner 22. Don’t obsess over percentiles 23. Survive baby’s first illness 24. Make “me time” a priority 25. Interview sitters 26. Ready, Set, Eat: Start solid foods 6 to 9 MONTHS 27. Time to babyproof 28. Deal with separation anxiety 29. Work on those motor skills 30. Get back to your workouts 31. Plan a getaway 32. Start brushing teeth 33. Make mom friends 34. Start traditions 9 to 12 MONTHS 35. Get an adjustment 36. Ask for help 37. Think about discipline 38. Think about weaning, or not 39. Sign up for a mommy-and-me (or daddy-and-me) class 40. Take care of your diet 41. Capture your memories 42. Reignite your style 43. Embrace your new body 44. Trust your instincts 45. Book a couple’s getaway 46. Get your affairs in order 47. Do a cake smash photo shoot 48. Find a hobby 49. Learn to save money 50. Celebrate baby’s first birthday

the first flight they could get, to reach safety in London. No arrests were made by gardaí, the attackers having fled before the force’s arrival. The getaway vehicle, a Ford Transit van, was later found burnt out in a nearby housing estate. There was a general air of disbelief in the city following the attack, with the Taoiseach making statements aimed at calming an unnerved public. But if the authorities had been left stunned by what

Buying an investment property in a country you want to visit extensively or live in gives you a double helping of benefits. Through rent and property appreciation, your global getaway pays for itself and provides pre-relocating cash flow. Then, when you’re ready to be there, you already have a substantial holding and history in the country.

Yesterday morning, I felt the same way, I saw Madilyn in the corner with her hand wrapped around a ray and it pisses me off so much you have no idea. I wanted her arm wrapped around my waist, not his, or even the other way around; I don’t know what I want at this point. She was smiling and giggling about something stupid that he said like used to do with me, it makes me sick she is mine, I can stand it, him breathing on her and kissing her nick hell I thought she was gay. I am the one that wants to be nuzzled up against her. He was bending down to kiss her, and I so wanted to kick him dead in the ass hole. Payback is a b*tch, is not! She looks up and sees me, yet does she care at this point or am I dreaming yet another dream, that’s even more freaked than the last. She was looking at me with goo-goo eyes, yet kissing him, or was he kissing her? What is going on and what is going down. Then he takes my hand and drags him over to him, pushing other people out of the way, then makes both kiss him at the same freaking time- the same freaking time! What’s wrong with an asshole! Jenny was looking over our shoulder saying damn! Just what I always wanted a three-way with Ray and Madilyn in the hallway. I don’t know what is turning me on anymore. I see getaway and get off, and that is what they both said they were turning to do. And everyone in the hallway has that simple smile on their face, like- oh yeah. I search for my sunglasses in my purse to cover my crying eyes. I just said it was to keep the glare out of my eyes when I put them on. I look in the visor mirror, and I see Liv smiling at me. Like I knew she was going to cry, yet really, I wanted to see if my makeup was okay. I start to tune myself out. I don’t hear the phones going off. I can’t hear their laughter or chirpy voices. I can’t see the houses rushing by or the cars, I just close my eyes and fade away in my daydreams. Maybe I’ll tell her that I wish I was the girl I used to be, but at the same time, I know that I won’t dare. She would think I was crazy. They all would. Jenny might just say- ‘Okay if you feel that way, you can go back to flowing me around like my shadow. Go- to be with all the losers or the speed, and don’t think about coming back.’ I don’t want that either. It gets quiet, and I open my eyes, and I keep quiet, just looking out the window, as it steams up and I have to keep wiping it with my palm. The light outside is faint and soggy-looking like the sun is attempting to roll over the horizon of tree-covered hills and peeking into the valleys. The day is overcast like the sun is too lazy to get out of bed and wake itself up. The shadows are as piercing and jagged as needles. Like the shadow, I used to be wanting to be in the group of three girls following them around in awe. I watch buzzard, black crows, vultures circling the SUV like I am dead meat. It was a scary omen taunting me, from down below. I see all of the fifty or more taking off at the same time from power lines above, following me like a creepy shadow of death.

Yesterday morning, I felt the same way, I saw Madilyn in the corner with her hand wrapped around Ray and it pisses me off so much you have no idea. I wanted her arm wrapped around my waist, not his, or even the other way around; I don’t know what I want at this point. She was smiling and giggling about something stupid that he said like used to do with me, it makes me sick she is mine, I can stand it, him breathing on her and kissing her nick hell I thought she was gay. I am the one that wants to be nuzzled up against her. He was bending down to kiss her, and I so wanted to kick him dead in the ass hole. Payback is a b*tch, is not! She looks up and sees me, yet does she care at this point or am I dreaming yet another dream, that’s even more freaked than the last. She was looking at me with goo-goo eyes, yet kissing him, or was he kissing her? What is going on and what is going down. Then he takes my hand and drags him over to him, pushing other people out of the way, then makes both kiss him at the same freaking time- the same freaking time! What’s wrong with an asshole! Jenny was looking over our shoulder saying damn! Just what I always wanted a three-way with Ray and Madilyn in the hallway. I don’t know what is turning me on anymore. I see getaway and get off, and that is what they both said they were turning to do. And everyone in the hallway has that simple smile on their face, like- oh yeah. I search for my sunglasses in my purse to cover my crying eyes. I just said it was to keep the glare out of my eyes when I put them on. I look in the visor mirror, and I see Liv smiling at me. Like I knew she was going to cry, yet really, I wanted to see if my makeup was okay. I start to tune myself out. I don’t hear the phones going off. I can’t hear their laughter or chirpy voices. I can’t see the houses rushing by or the cars, I just close my eyes and fade away in my daydreams. Maybe I’ll tell her that I wish I was the girl I used to be, but at the same time, I know that I won’t dare. She would think I was crazy. They all would. Jenny might just say- ‘Okay if you feel that way, you can go back to flowing me around like my shadow. Go- to be with all the losers or the speed, and don’t think about coming back.’ I don’t want that either. It gets quiet, and I open my eyes, and I keep quiet, just looking out the window, as it steams up and I have to keep wiping it with my palm. The light outside is faint and soggy-looking like the sun is attempting to roll over the horizon of tree-covered hills and peeking into the valleys. The day is overcast like the sun is too lazy to get out of bed and wake itself up. The shadows are as piercing and jagged as needles. Like the shadow, I used to be wanting to be in the group of three girls following them around in awe. I watch buzzard, black crows, vultures circling the SUV like I am dead meat. It was a scary omen taunting me, from down below. I see all of the fifty or more taking off at the same time from power lines above, following me like a creepy shadow of death.

An expedition to Antarctica is one of the best kept secrets in adventure travel. You wear the same clothes every day with the side benefit of not having to do laundry. You can create any number of South Pole hairstyles using your natural buildup of oil ‘product.’ You pack up your house every single morning, so you’re treated to a different view every night. You never have to wonder, ‘What’s for dinner?’ because it is always a just-add-hot-water dehydrated meal. Your hole-in-the-ground alfresco bathroom keeps unpleasant odors at bay. And you eat as much as is humanly possible and still lose weight. Yes, an expedition in Antarctica is the ultimate couples’ getaway with endless undisturbed time together.

Discipline builds mental endurance because when effort is your main priority, you stop looking for everything to be enjoyable. Our phones and social media have turned too many of us inside out with envy and greed as we get inundated with other people’s success, their new cars and houses, big contracts, resort vacations, and romantic getaways. We see how much fun everyone else is having and feel like the world is passing us by, so we complain about it and then wonder why we are not where we want to be.

I’m asking GOD for one thing,       only one thing: To live with him in his house       my whole life long. I’ll contemplate his beauty;       I’ll study at his feet.   That’s the only quiet, secure place       in a noisy world, The perfect getaway,       far from the buzz of traffic.   God holds me head and shoulders       above all who try to pull me down. I’m headed for his place to offer anthems       that will raise the roof! Already I’m singing God-songs;       I’m making music to GOD.   Listen, GOD, I’m calling at the top of my lungs:       “Be good to me! Answer me!” When my heart whispered, “Seek God,”       my whole being replied, “I’m seeking him!”       Don’t hide from me now!   You’ve always been right there for me;       don’t turn your back on me now. Don’t throw me out,

Gallo and his party laughed along with everyone else at Don’s insults—sadly, there is no record of Don zinging Crazy Joe—and, after the show ended, they headed over to Umberto’s Clam House in Little Italy for Crazy Joe’s big birthday party. At around 4:30 a.m., as Gallo sat at his table, a middle-aged gunman calmly walked up and pumped two bullets into him before escaping in a getaway car. Crazy Joe, mortally wounded, staggered after him before collapsing in the street. The gangland slaying triggered a bloody mob war that lasted two years.

Took me a long time, a lot of years, to put the past where it belonged so it didn’t screw with my present every day anymore.” She looked over at him. “How’d you do it?” “I decided to focus only on what was right in front of me at that moment rather than putting it in the context of what’d happened before. Not sure that makes sense…” “No, it does, but I still don’t see how you can just do that.” “You make up your mind to look ahead, not back. There’s not one damned thing you can change about the past, but the future is yours to map out as you see fit.” “That sounds great, but how?” “You wake up every day with a choice about how you want to live. Do you want to be mired in a past you can’t change or focused on a future that you direct?” “You make it sound so simple.” “It is once you get the hang of it. You ever heard the saying that it takes three weeks to create a habit, whether it’s a good habit or a bad one?” “Yes, I’ve read about that.” “Usually, they’re talking about going to the gym or starting to walk or dieting or whatever. In this case, you wake up and decide to focus on all the positive things you can think of. You give them your full attention for all your waking hours. Whether it’s your work or your child or your garden or whatever brings you peace, pleasure and prosperity. I love my job. I love my studio and the people who work with me there. I love doing things to grow the business, such as partnering with the McCarthys to offer weekend getaways that include a tattoo. That was my idea, by the way. Brings in some business in the off-season. It gives me a kick to think of stuff like that. I love my art and my cross-stitching, my garden and puttering around my house. Those things bring me joy.

Lake Haven hadn’t become a fashionable summer getaway for the East Coast elite until somewhere around the fifties, about the time Grandma and Grandpa had opened the East Beach Lake Cottages. The houses built on the lake since then had big windows and rooms set at angles designed to capture the best views. But Ross house had its own unique charm. Once you entered through the stone gate, you knew you were entering an area of wealth and refined taste. You’d expect to find the woman of the house in Ralph Lauren, perhaps on her way to a golf game. You would not expect to find Nancy Yates.

said. A shiver of excitement wiggled through her. This was almost like sleuthing! They parked their bikes a few houses down from Annie’s. Then Nancy grabbed the love note and the granola bar from her bike basket. Nancy wished they had a fancy box of candy, the kind where each piece sat in a little pleated paper cup. But Bree kept insisting, “It’s the thought that counts.” Lickety-split they dashed down to Annie’s house. As they reached the porch, a dog inside started yapping like mad. They left the note and granola bar right by the front door. Then they made a quick getaway.

Clark’s real estate agent turned out to be one of those loud, garrulous people who, as they drive, insist on making eye contact with the passengers in the back seat. ‘You want to see Scott Cook’s house?’ she hollered over her shoulder to a terrified Mr and Mrs Jim Barksdale. Scott Cook was the chairman of Intuit, the financial software company. ‘Is it for sale?’ asked Barksdale. ‘No,’ said the woman. ‘Then I don’t want to see it,’ said Barksdale. Clark’s realtor ignored him and squealed through this enormous bronze gate and into Scott Cook’s driveway. Out of the house shot Mrs Scott Cook to investigate this intrusion. Clark’s realtor had panicked, backed up and tried to make a quick getaway but ended up rolling back into Mrs Cook’s newly planted garden. There she became stuck in the mud. Wheels spun, plants flew. Mrs Cook was livid. She looked at Barksdale as if he were some kind of criminal. They had to call a fire truck and a tow truck to extract him, his wife, and Clark’s realtor from the garden. The episode lasted an hour.