Stick To Your Lane Quotes

Don't think outside the box. Go box shopping. Keep trying on one after another until you find the one that catalyzes your thinking. A good box is like a lane marker on the highway. It's a constraint that liberates.

Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you . .

The third encounter came towards the end of the afternoon when Sophie had worked her way quite high into the hills. A countryman came whistling down the lane towards her. A shepherd, Sophie thought, going home after seeing to his sheep. He was a well set up young fellow of forty or so. "Gracious!" Sophie said to herself. "This morning I'd have seen him as an old man. How one's point of view does alter!" When the shepherd saw Sophie mumbling to herself, he moved rather carefully over to the other side of the lane and called out with great heartiness, "Good evening to you, Mother! Where are you off to?" "Mother?" said Sophie. "I'm not your mother, young man!" "A manner of speaking," the shepherd said, edging along against the opposite hedge. "I was only meaning a polite inquiry, seeing you walking into the hills at the end of the day. You won't get down into Upper Folding before nightfall, will you?" Sophie had not considered this. She stood in the road and thought about it. "It doesn't matter really," she said, half to herself. "You can't be fussy when you're off to seek your fortune." "Can't you indeed, Mother?" said the shepherd. He had now edged himself downhill of Sophie and seemed to feel better for it. "Then I wish you luck, Mother, provided your fortune don't have nothing to do with charming folks' cattle." And he took off down the road in great strides, almost running, but not quite. Sophie stared after him indignantly. "He thought I was a witch!" she said to her stick. She had half a mind to scare the shepherd by shouting nasty things after him, but that seemed a little unkind.

Kaden gave another one of those unexpected barks of humor. “Yeah. And I’m telling you, my sister is a shameless, shameless woman, and she swears by the guy in bed. If you ever feel like taking that stick out of your ass, you may want to rethink your stand on him. I understand he’s like a religious experience.

Yeah, well you’re not bad-looking, but you’ve got that stick up your ass and I always top. It’d get crowded, trust me. Now

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well you’re not bad-looking, but you’ve got that stick up your ass and I always top. It’d get crowded, trust me.

You’re not the funny one. Just try and stick in your snarky, bitchy lane, yeah? It suits you better.” I opened my mouth to protest that, but Darius turned and punched him in the arm before I could. “Don’t tell her she can’t be funny, dickhead,” he warned like my own personal dark knight. “Well tell me this, Darius,” Seth said seriously, looking him square in the eye. “Did. You. Laugh?

People with stamina aren’t made any differently to anyone else,’ she was saying. ‘The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you . . .

The left-hand lane is exclusively for the use of Porsches, BMWs and Mercedes. Dark-coloured vehicles only please. If you're driving a white or silver car please stick to the middle lane at all times and moderate your speed. Loser!

People with stamina aren’t made any differently to anyone else,’ she was saying. ‘The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you

What’s wrong?” Lane ran his thumb over my cheek. “I wish… I just…” I frowned, trying to find the words I wanted. “I want to go home. I want to go check on Iggy. I want this to be a really bad and really long nightmare. I wish that instead of being in the truck, we were on our couch. You’d be sitting with your legs stretched out and I’d be lying on your lap. We could watch a movie. We’d be having a beer and nachos… I’d kill for a fucking beer right now.” I stopped my rambling to swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “It will be okay.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but someone will figure it out and they’ll find a way to fix it. We’re safe here for now.” He maneuvered over the shift stick settled himself beside me. I laid my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes as he smoothed my hair. “Lane?” “Hmmm?” I looked up at him and raised a hand to touch his cheek. My heart skipped, my lips brushed over his, and I took a deep breath. I remembered all those times I’d told him, but at the same time hadn’t told him. I decided that from now on, for whatever time we had left, he’d know. “I love you, Lane. Always have.” His smile melted every bone in my body. “I love you, Gabrielle. Always will.

Go away.” I stick my elbow in his ribs and force him to step back. “Sit on the couch and keep your hands to yourself,” I instruct, then follow him to the sofa and grab my Dating and Sex for Dummies books off the coffee table and shove them into my sock drawer while he laughs. “You’re making me miss my show,” I gripe as I toss things into the suitcase. “Your show? You sound like you’re eighty.” He glances at the TV behind me then back to me. “Murder on Mason Lane,” he says. “It was the neighbor. She was committing Medicare fraud using the victim’s deceased wife’s information. He caught on so she killed him.” I gasp. “You spoiler! You spoiling spoiler who spoils!” Then I shrug. “This is a new episode. You don’t even know that. It’s the daughter. She killed him. I’ve had her pegged since the first commercial break.” “You’re cute.” “Just you wait,” I tell him, very satisfied with myself. I’m really good at guessing whodunnit. “Sorry, you murder nerd, I worked on this case two years ago. It’s the neighbor.” “Really?” I drop my makeup bag into the suitcase and check to see if he’s teasing me. “I swear. I’ll tell you all the good shit the show left out once we’re on the plane.” I survey Boyd with interest. I do have a lot of questions. “I thought you were in cyber crimes, not murder.” “Murder isn’t a department,” he replies, shaking his head at me. “You know what I mean.” “Most crimes have a cyber component to them these days. There’s always a cyber trail.” Shit, that’s hot.

Straightening reluctantly, she strolled about the room with forced nonchalance, her hands clasped behind her back, looking blindly at the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling, trying to think what to say. And then inspiration struck. The solution was demeaning but practical, and properly presented, it could appear she was graciously doing him a favor. She paused a moment to arrange her features into what she hoped was the right expression of enthusiasm and compassion, then she wheeled around abruptly. “Mr. Thornton!” Her voice seemed to explode in the room at the same time his startled amber gaze riveted on her face, then drifted down her bodice, roving boldly over her ripened curves. Unnerved but determined, Elizabeth forged shakily ahead: “It appears as if no one has occupied this house in quite some time.” “I commend you on that astute observation, lady Cameron,” Ian mocked lazily, watching the tension and emotion play across her expressive face. For the life of him he could not understand what she was doing here or why she seemed to be trying to ingratiate herself this morning. Last night the explanation he’d given Jake had made sense; now, looking at her, he couldn’t quite believe any of it. Then he remembered that Elizabeth Cameron had always robbed him of the ability to think rationally. “Houses do have a way of succumbing to dirt when no one looks after them,” she stated with a bright look. “Another creditable observation. You’ve certainly a quick mind.” “Must you make this so very difficult!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I apologize,” he said with mocking gravity. “Do go on. You were saying?” “Well, I was thinking, since we’re quite stranded here-Lucinda and I, I mean-with absolutely nothing but time on our hands, that this house could certainly use a woman’s touch.” “Capital idea!” burst out Jake, returning from his mission to locate the butter and casting a highly hopeful look at Lucinda. He was rewarded with a glare from her that could have pulverized rock. “It could use an army of servants carrying shovels and wearing masks on their faces,” the duenna countered ruthlessly. “You needn’t help, Lucinda,” Elizabeth explained, aghast. “I never meant to imply you should. But I could! I-“ She whirled around as Ian Thornton surged to his feet and took her elbow in a none-too-gentle grasp. “Lady Cameron,” he said. “I think you and I have something to discuss that may be better spoken in private. Shall we?” He gestured to the open door and then practically dragged her along in his wake. Outdoors in the sunlight he marched her forward several paces, then dropped her arm. “Let’s hear it,” he said. “Hear what?” Elizabeth said nervously. “An explanation-the truth, if you’re capable of it. Last night you drew a gun on me, and this morning you’re awash with excitement over the prospect over the prospect of cleaning my house. I want to know why.” “Well,” Elizabeth burst out in defense of her actions with the gun, “you were extremely disagreeable!” “I am still disagreeable,” he pointed out shortly, ignoring Elizabeth’s raised brows. “I haven’t changed. I am not the one who’s suddenly oozing goodwill this morning.” Elizabeth turned her head to the lane, trying desperately to think of an explanation that wouldn’t reveal to him her humiliating circumstances. “The silence is deafening, Lady Cameron, and somewhat surprising. As I recall, the last time we met you could scarcely contain all the edifying information you were trying to impart to me.” Elizabeth knew he was referring to her monologue on the history of hyacinths in the greenhouse. “I just don’t know where to begin,” she admitted. “Let’s stick to the salient points. What are you doing here?

When every car is moving to the fast lane. The fast lane becomes slow. That is what happens to you too. When you are doing , what everyone else is doing. When everyone is doing the same thing. When people are trying to recreate the event or moment that was good. It delays your progress and success, but if you stick to your own lane. You might get to your destination which is progress and success in time.

stamina aren’t made any differently to anyone else,’ she was saying. ‘The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you . . .

People with stamina aren’t made any differently to anyone else,’ she was saying. ‘The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distractions. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you...

People with stamina aren’t made any differently to anyone else,’ she was saying. ‘The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you . .

Thamel" A narrative written by Avijeet Das The feelings of Paarijat linger as an epiphany and the smoke and aroma of incense sticks welcome you into a dream land. Myriad Thanka paintings splash colors in your eyes and the melodious chants of the Buddhist monks add tranquility to your heart. Cafes and restaurants mushroom here all the year round as does the grass in the valley around Kathmandu. While drifting in these lanes of Thamel, you feel like Alice in Wonderland, discovering the magic of hand crafted wooden sculptures, pashminas and yak wool shawls. And meeting foreign tourists from all around the world, smiling and greeting you a "Namaste" will serenade you with the fragrance of Nepal, intoxicating one and all!

She said I made it to the papers as your domestic partner.” Channing threw back his head and grimaced. “Oh God. I’m sorry, Tino. I don’t know where they got that impression.” Tino wrinkled his nose. “From two guys running around in their underwear, smelling like come, and from the fact that I wasn’t in the room that was supposed to be mine. Don’t be dense, Channing. And she wasn’t mad. There were no offers—no serious offers—to come down and defend my reputation.” Channing cocked his head and regarded Tino skeptically. “Doesn’t living in a domestic partnership with me reduce the number of cows your father can get for you in marriage?” Tino crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “The only way he gets cows in that exchange is for someone to check my maidenhead. If some town elder tries to stick a finger up my butt to see if it’s still tight, I’m borrowing your old Dell and taking off his head.

The only difference is they have a clear goal in mind, and a determination to get there. Stamina is essential to stay focused in a life filled with distraction. It is the ability to stick to a task when your body and mind are at their limit, the ability to keep your head down, swimming in your lane, without looking around, worrying who might overtake you . . .

He grabs the back of my neck and forces me down onto my knees. I yelp when he grabs hold of my hair and brings my head up to look at him. “I’ve made you feel good multiple times now. I’ve made you come and I’ve treated you real nice.” Nice? Fucking nice? “Now it’s time to return the favor.” “If you even dare to stick your disgusting prick inside of my mouth, I swear I will bite it off!” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Sure, you could try that. Then I will just kill your husband myself.

I stick out my tongue and lick a long path over her throat before I reach her mouth. “You’re a stubborn little thing. Do you realize that only makes me crave you more?” I plant a light kiss on her mouth. “I can’t wait to break you, Lucille.” She spits into my face, a deadly storm in her eyes as she stares at me, her saliva landing right above my lip. I run my tongue over it to scoop it up, then swallow it and grin. “What was your endgame with that, sweetheart?