Inspirational quotes with craned.
Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students."Don’t let it worry you," said Ron. "It’s me. I’m extremely famous.
Tessa craned her head back to look at Will. “You know that feeling,” she said, “when you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing tight around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage and you cannot let go or turn the course aside.” His blue eyes were dark with understanding — of course Will would understand — and she hurried on. “I feel now as if the same is happening, only not to characters on a page but to my own beloved friends and companions. I do not want to sit by while tragedy comes for us. I would turn it aside, only I struggle to discover how that might be done.”“You fear for Jem,” Will said.“Yes,” she said. “And I fear for you, too.”“No,” Will said, hoarsely. “Don’t waste that on me, Tess.
I craved a form of naive realism. I paid special attention, I craned my readerly neck whenever a London street I knew was mentioned, or a style of frock, a real public person, even a make of car. Then, I thought, I had a measure, I could guage the quality of the writing by its accuracy, by the extent to which it aligned with my own impressions, or improved upon them. I was fortunate that most English writing of the time was in the form of undemanding social documentary. I wasn't impressed by those writers (they were spread between South and North America) who infiltrated their own pages as part of the cast, determined to remind poor reader that all the characters and even they themselves were pure inventions and the there was a difference between fiction and life. Or, to the contrary, to insist that life was a fiction anyway. Only writers, I thought, were ever in danger of confusing the two.
Are you watching the boats?" Cornelia guessed. She craned her neck to see if there was any excitement on the river.Heavens no, I'm spying on people," Virginia responded unrepentantly.-Cornelia E and Virginia Somerset
In near panic, I craned my neck to gaze over the cabin’s roofline a bursting fireball.
In 7.81 square miles of vaunted black community, the 850 square feet of Dum Dum Donuts was the only place in the "community" where one could experience the Latin root of the word, where a citizen could revel in common togetherness. So one rainy Sunday afternoon, not long after the tanks and media attention had left, my father ordered his usual. He sat at the table nearest the ATM and said aloud, to no one in particular, "Do you know that the average household net worth for whites is $113,149 per year, Hispanics $6,325, and black folks $5,677?""For real?""What's your source material, nigger?""The Pew Research Center."Motherfuckers from Harvard to Harlem respect the Pew Research Center, and hearing this, the concerned patrons turned around in their squeaky plastic seats as best they could, given that donut shop swivel chairs swivel only six degrees in either direction. Pops politely asked the manager to dim the lights. I switched on the overhead projector, slid a transparency over the glass, and together we craned our necks toward the ceiling, where a bar graph titled "Income Disparity as Determined by Race" hovered overhead like some dark, damning, statistical cumulonimbus cloud threatening to rain on our collective parades."I was wondering what that li'l nigger was doing in a donut shop with a damn overhead projector.
Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on theknuckles.“Good day, Charlotte,” he said.“Good day,” she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to havedisappeared.Numbly, she descended the front steps toward a waiting Rothbury, who only had eyes for the Devines’front door, looking quite like he wanted to murder someone.“Perfection, dear brother,” Rosalind proclaimed, while peeking out the little window next to the door.“Utter perfection.”Slipping a finger inside his cravat to loosen it a bit, Tristan craned his neck from side to side, easing thebuilding tension. “If he kills me, I’ll see to it that you get hanged for murder as well.
Falderson," he said quietly to Bahzell in passable Navahkan, "is as stupid as the day is long." He craned his neck to gaze up at the hradani and shook his head. "In fact, he's even stupider than I thought. You, sir, are the biggest damned hradani-no offense-I think I've ever seen.
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