Lakeside Living Quotes

Who we are and where we want to go determines what we do now and what we accomplish over time.

Ned had no clue how any parent could live a life without regret. Like most parents, he just had to choose which regrets he could live with.

Some lives are like steps and stairs, every period an achievement built on a previous success. Other lives hum with the arc of the swift spear. Only ever one thing, that dedicated life, from start to finish, but how magnificently concentrated its journey. The trajectory seems so true as to be proof of predestination. Still other lives are more like the progress of a child scrabbling over boulders at a lakeside—now up, now down, always the destination blocked from view. Now a wrenched ankle, now a spilled sandwich, now a fishhook in the face.

He’d fly his chopper over the Berlin lakeside beaches, for example, throwing out leaflets that read, “The handsome young man flying this helicopter is Captain Dale Le Clerc. If you would like to meet him in person, ring him at…” with, of course, his phone number and the best time to call. These things would flutter, en masse, onto the tanned bellies of the West Berlin sunbathers, and the results were mind-boggling. Once I went back to his apartment with him, only to find a line of girls waiting patiently at his door, all of them ready to live the day

The citizens of Buffalo, then a smallish lakeside town, embarked on a brief campaign, led by a local judge named Wilkeson, to clear their own eponymous riverway and so tempt the canal engineers to route the Erie Canal to a terminus nearby. Energetic lobbying, together with the clearance of the creek, evidently worked, for the engineers did eventually end their labors there, and the fact that more than a million people now still brave one of the country’s cruelest climates (with roof-topping lake-effect snowfalls drowning the city each winter) to live in and around Buffalo is testimony to the wisdom of Judge Wilkeson and the city fathers of 1825 in doing all the persuading, as well as dredging and prettifying the banks of Buffalo Creek.

All beings of the world are in a constant state of either coming into being or going out of being. Resignation of the soul is the final act in a one-character play. Given our genetic defect of mortality, it is impossible not to question the why and wherefore of our existence. It is understandable why each of us must ask what life is all about, and for that matter, constantly inquire what is next. Where does the headwater of our existence spring from and where will the divergent stream of life take us? Do the still waters that gently slide by compose the tranquil waters relished by lentic lakeside creatures? What lies ahead in the burbling headwaters of tomorrow? Does nourishing brain food wait for lotic inhabitants to feast upon in the turbulent rapids and airy froth of the future? Vagueness, doubt, and insecurity shroud the future. The only thing certain is that the effervescence culled from our dynamic immersion in the firth of today will expose our material composition.

The sweet blood, the howling not-Wolf, had changed things in the Lakeside Courtyard—had even changed some of the terra indigene living in that Courtyard. She was not like the human enemies. She was not prey. She and her kind were Namid’s creation, wondrous and terrible.

The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, worry about the future, or anticipate troubles but to live in the present moment wisely and earnestly.” —Buddha

If Glenn related to anything outside of music, it was animals. When he bicycled through the countryside near his parents’ lakeside vacation cottage outside of Toronto, he sang to the cows. His pets included rabbits, turtles, a fully functioning skunk, goldfish named Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, and Haydn, and a parakeet named Mozart. There was also a series of beloved dogs: a big Newfoundland named Buddy, an English setter named Sir Nickolson of Garelocheed—or Nick for short—and, later, Banquo, a collie. One of Glenn’s childhood dreams was to someday create a preserve for old, injured, and stray animals on Manitoulin Island, north of Toronto, where he wanted to live out his old age by himself, surrounded by animals.

God loves his creation (just read Job 38 – 41), and we should feel humbled and privileged that he entrusted it to our care. Rather than treat this world like a hotel room that someone else will clean up, we should treat it like a lakeside cabin that our boss let us borrow for the weekend. How we treat it shows God how much he can trust us with his other things.

Even if she lost this one, too, she had a partner, a job, and a home she loved. She lived a life that must’ve seemed easy and successful to many, one that many could not earn without a lot of help. She reminded herself that if this didn’t happen, to merely have this glorious life was no failure.

Bronzie began to bark outside. Mariel followed her host back into the living room, where they watched through the big window as Bronzie chased a passing car. “She was hit by a car once,” Brenda said. “Now, she hates them all.” “That’s a tough way to live.” “Don’t knock it.” Brenda shrugged. “It gives her purpose.

She wished she could. It was real love, unlike her mother’s marriage to Floyd. It was real because they were honest with one another, and the core of their bond was so solid they could argue without hurting each other. Arguments are the leaves, and the relationship is the trunk, Archie liked to say. One comes and goes, and the other doesn’t change, except to get stronger. He would know, because even when Florence was around, there had been a lot of arguments. Archie had openly soured on their covert arrangement, and had been trying to convince Floyd to move with him to Chicago. He claimed he had friends in Old Town who would welcome them, and they could live how they wanted. Floyd never had much to say about it when Florence was present. He was probably hoping it would blow over. Instead, it picked up more force each passing year.

She had a partner, a job and a home she loved. She lived a life that must have seemed easy and successful to many. One that many could not earn without a lot of help. She reminded herself that if this didn't happen, to merely have this glorious life was no failure.

You said you and William became 'officially involved' on December twenty-fourth?" "Yes." "That night, did you and William ever discuss a recent windfall of fifty thousand dollars?" "No." "Did you and William discuss your plans to move in together?" "I said, no." "Did you agree to become officially involved with William even though you both knew another woman still considered herself his fiancée?" "Yes." "Did you decide to do this because William's financial prospects had suddenly improved by fifty thousand dollars? Enough to live together in the Lakeside Apartments, after his father was dead?" Brenda flinches. Jerry calls out, "Objection! Speculation! Foundation! Assumes facts not in evidence!" The objection is sustained. Udweala rephrases the question. "You said you had financial reasons not to be 'officially involved' with William Chao. Did you become 'officially involved' on the evening of December twenty-fourth, despite the fact that he had not broken off his engagement with his girlfriend, because William now had fifty thousand dollars?" "For God's sake, no." Brenda's voice is sharp. "I told you, he never told me about any fifty thousand. What are you implying here? You want to make me out as some kind of slut? A whore? You want the jury to think that Dagou tried to pay me to move in with him?" Again, James glances at Lynn's juror. Her lips are set, her eyes bright, and James understands that with these blurted questions, Brenda has said exactly what the persecution wanted.

A little quick math. In 1968 there were roughly 303 million high-school-age people in the world, according to the UN. About 18 million of them lived in the United States. About 270,000 of them lived in Washington state. A little over 100,000 of them lived in the Seattle area. And only about 300 of them attended Lakeside School. Start with 303 million, end with 300.

My hands haven’t left her hair, but one slides down her neck and finds its place above her left breast. Feeling that heartbeat under her skin. Knowing it beats for me, for her. We are both living, but I want that heart to love me. My eyes close on the dangerous thought. She’ll break me if she does. Heartbreaker and ball-buster all rolled into one. This woman could shatter me because I’ve never wanted anything more than to deserve her.

While Joe Biden has throughout his career referred to himself as Middle Class Joe, a recent report in Politico titled “Biden Inc.” tells a different story. Biden has raked in millions in recent years, enabling him to live in a 12,000-square-foot home in McLean, Virginia, with 5 bedrooms, 10 bathrooms, marble fireplaces, a gym and sauna and parking for 20 cars. The Bidens also own a beach house in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, to complement their 7,000-square-foot lakeside home in Wilmington, Delaware.

You are more than a fleeting moment because I do not know how I am supposed to live without you after all this ends.

I want her baby to be mine. I want her to be mine.

There was never a list, Logan, but if there had been, there would only be one name on it.

You hold me in the palm of your hand. You hold my heart. And I’m going to carry yours.

It’s your life … are you living it or just existing in it?”