Quotes About Trains

Quotes tagged as "trains" (showing 1-30 of 74)
Roman Payne
“It’s not that we have to quit
this life one day, but it’s how
many things we have to quit
all at once: music, laughter,
the physics of falling leaves,
automobiles, holding hands,
the scent of rain, the concept
of subway trains... if only one
could leave this life slowly!”
Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

Coco J. Ginger
“When we are in love, we are convinced nobody else will do. But as time goes, others do do, and often do do, much much better.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“You don’t deserve my image in your head. You don’t deserve my memories in your chest.”
Coco J. Ginger

Carlos Ruiz Zafón
“Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station.”
Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Coco J. Ginger
“I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.

Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each lettter.

Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.

A name I won’t throw around lightheartedly or repeat without deep thought.

And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that familiar form….. carries too much meaning for my capricious heart.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“Maybe she had it wrong all this time and her empty heart could never be filled by his ingenious broken spirit. Maybe this yearning had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“I’m mistaken….

for thinking you were someone with a heart worth breaking.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“I won’t let you have it. I won’t give you this moment. I won’t let you fill up this valuable organ...I own it. I won’t do it. I can’t think, I won’t think about it.”
Coco J. Ginger

I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended
“I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places, all anxieties of purpose taken care of: for this moment I know where I am going.”
Anna Funder, Stasiland: Stories from Behind the Berlin Wall

Coco J. Ginger
“I miss your silent stature, your avoided days of disaster, your present state of distress.
I’m cinnamon, cloves and fire, you are the rested cedarwood of desire.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“It's a finger snapping kind of day.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“Writers do not have the privilege of sleep. There is always a story coming alive in their heads, constantly composing. Whether they choose it or not.”
Coco J. Ginger

Coco J. Ginger
“You’re a mess, I confess, I despise you in the best kind of way.”
Coco J. Ginger

Steve Martin
“You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosey, fucking, cheeks! Then you can give me a fucking automobile... a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat! And I really don't care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there. And I really didn't care to fucking walk down a fucking highway and across a fucking runway to get back here to have you smile at my fucking face. I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
Steve Martin

Meindert DeJong
“The restlessness and the longing, like the longing that is in the whistle of a faraway train. Except that the longing isn't really in the whistle—it is in you.”
Meindert DeJong, The Little Cow and the Turtle

Coco J. Ginger
“He offered her power, money, status...
a giant prison, all in exchange
for only...her soul.”
Coco J. Ginger

George Orwell
“The train bore me away, through the monstrous scenery of slag-heaps, chimneys, piled scrap-iron, foul canals, paths of cindery mud criss-crossed by the prints of clogs. This was March, but the weather had been horribly cold and everywhere there were mounds of blackened snow. As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her—her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye. She had a round pale face, the usual exhausted face of the slum girl who is twenty-five and looks forty, thanks to miscarriages and drudgery; and it wore, for the second in which I saw it, the most desolate, hopeless expression I have ever-seen. It struck me then that we are mistaken when we say that ‘It isn’t the same for them as it would be for us,’ and that people bred in the slums can imagine nothing but the slums. For what I saw in her face was not the ignorant suffering of an animal. She knew well enough what was happening to her—understood as well as I did how dreadful a destiny it was to be kneeling there in the bitter cold, on the slimy stones of a slum backyard, poking a stick up a foul drain-pipe.”
George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier

Marianne Wiggins
“...what thrills me about trains is not their size or their equipment but the fact that they are moving, that they embody a connection between unseen places.”
Marianne Wiggins

Piet Hein
“It ought to be plain how little you gain
by getting excited and vexed.
You'll always be late for the previous train,
and always on time for the next.”
Piet Hein

Coco J. Ginger
“He had let me know time after time that he was a thinking man, a man of intellect and wit. Yet one unintended hungry look into my eyes and he betrayed each of his words he had carefully spoken to me. I knew it in that instant. He was a viscerally driven man. And one day, he would possess me.”
Coco J. Ginger

“Trains tap into some deep American collective memory.”
Dana Frank, Local Girl Makes History: Exploring Northern California's Kitsch Monuments

Erich Maria Remarque
“I lie down on many a station platform; I stand before many a soup kitchen; I squat on many a bench;--then at last the landscape becomes disturbing, mysterious, and familiar. It glides past the western windows with its villages, their thatched roofs like caps, pulled over the white-washed, half-timbered houses, its corn-fields, gleaming like mother-of-pearl in the slanting light, its orchards, its barns and old lime trees.

The names of the stations begin to take on meaning and my heart trembles. The train stamps and stamps onward. I stand at the window and hold on to the frame. These names mark the boundaries of my youth.”
Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

Ogden Nash
“At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing in the South Station
And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of aviation.”
Ogden Nash, Hard Lines

Catherynne M. Valente
“Six express tracks and twelve locals pass through Palimpsest. The six Greater Lines are: Stylus, Sgraffito, Decretal, Foolscap, Bookhand, and Missal. Collectively, in the prayers of those gathered prostrate in the brass turnstiles of its hidden, voluptuous shrines, these are referred to as the Marginalia Line. They do not run on time: rather, the commuters of Palimpsest have learned their habits, the times of day and night when they prefer to eat and drink, their mating seasons, their gathering places. In days of old, great safaris were held to catch the great trains in their inexorable passage from place to place, and women grappled with them with hooks and tridents in order to arrive punctually at a desk in the depth, of the city.

As if to impress a distracted parent on their birthday, the folk of Palimpsest built great edifices where the trains liked to congregate to drink oil from the earth and exchange gossip. They laid black track along the carriages’ migratory patterns. Trains are creatures of routine, though they are also peevish and curmudgeonly. Thus the transit system of Palimpsest was raised up around the huffing behemoths that traversed its heart, and the trains have not yet expressed displeasure.

To ride them is still an exercise in hunterly passion and exactitude, for they are unpredictable, and must be observed for many weeks before patterns can be discerned. The sport of commuting is attempted by only the bravest and the wildest of Palimpsest. Many have achieved such a level of aptitude that they are able to catch a train more mornings than they do not.

The wise arrive early with a neat coil of hooked rope at their waist, so that if a train is in a very great hurry, they may catch it still, and ride behind on the pauper’s terrace with the rest of those who were not favored, or fast enough, or precise in their calculations. Woe betide them in the infrequent mating seasons! No train may be asked to make its regular stops when she is in heat! A man was once caught on board when an express caught the scent of a local. The poor banker was released to a platform only eight months later, when the two white leviathans had relinquished each other with regret and tears.”
Catherynne M. Valente, Palimpsest

Suicide by train is also popular in many developed countries. Without ready access to firearms, suicidal people often turn to trains. —Der Spiegel, July 27, 2011

Once it happens you can’t remember
how you started out: innocent,
barreling into the tunnel,
shooting out at each station
like a dolphin out of a dim green pool.
Pneumatic doors inhale open, puff shut,
lock with a solid thump.

Up and down the line, fifty times a day,
it’s a long slow song. You
feel the rumble as much as hear it.
In your dim green trance
the words retain wonder:
Vorsicht, Türe werden geschloßen.
Caution, the doors are closing.

Then the first time:
someone decides darkness will answer,
hides out in the tunnel,
steps out in front of the train
like he knows where he’s going,
steps out at you, dying at you,
knowing you can’t stop in time.

Now each time the doors close,
they seal you in. You are a human bullet
shot into the tunnels, hoping no one
will block the light far ahead,
each station one minute’s reprieve.”
Karen Greenbaum-Maya

Russell Baker
“A railroad station? That was sort of a primitive airport, only you didn't have to take a cab 20 miles out of town to reach it.”
Russell Baker

David Mitchell
“Temple of the Rat King. Ark of the Soot God. Sphincter of Hades. Yes, King's Cross Station, where, according to Knuckle Sandwich, a blow job costs only five quid - any of the furthest-left three cubicles in the men's lavvy downstairs, twenty-four hours a day.”
David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Richard L.  Ratliff
“Through the dark night chasing the morning light
That headlight streaming white through the night”
Richard L. Ratliff

Eric Lomax
“From that day onwards I spent a lot of time on Park Bridge, and soon became aware of other boys with similar interests leaning out over the engines as they slowed down on their way into the goods yard, or cruised at speed further out on their way up the East Coast main line between Edinburgh and London. For Edinburgh was a rail centre, and I lived at the eastern end of a great loop of lines punctuated by stations, depots, tunnels, repair yards and goods terminals. I could watch the flagship engines of the London and North Eastern Railway rush by, a long procession of carriages drawn after them as they headed for Edinburgh Waverley - the company's very own station and a mecca for train lovers - or catch the smaller, older engines at the head of suburban and country trains. They were all trains, and that was enough for now.”
Eric Lomax, The Railway Man

Kelsey Brickl
“Sometimes the smoke from the factories and riverboats and trains would obscure the night sky entirely. But the town's industrial breath was blowing somewhere else tonight, and so the Armstrong house was bathed in starlight. Nell studied the little white specks, like glittering dust on black velvet, and she asked,

"You boys ever wonder what it'd be like to be somewhere else?”
Kelsey Brickl, Hardtack: A Civil War Story

« previous 1 3
All Quotes | My Quotes | Add A Quote


Browse By Tag

More...