That’s one of the reasons I never wanted to get married. The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
Fate's arrow, when expected, travels slow.
I love my wife. We've had a few slings and arrows across the room, but I'm not prepared to give in, you know? People say she saved my life, but at the same time, I saved her life, as well, I think. She's a great mother, she's a great wife, she's a great worker, she's a great manager. She's just great.
If everything when it occupies an equal space is at rest, and if that which is in locomotion is always occupying such a space at any moment, the flying arrow is therefore motionless.
As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark. . . so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
Base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark.
Wise words are like arrows flung at your forehead. What do you do? Why, you duck of course.
People who paint, including myself, get to a point where a bit of angst comes in. If you're doing it for a living, it's worth it to suffer those slings and arrows.
It's like going into a nuclear war with bows and arrows.
That's emails for ya: sometimes they're like an arrow that hits so deep in the target, you can't pull it out.
Certainly I feel like I'm the tip of the arrow at times because certainly the national media wants to talk about the fact that I'm a black Republican and some people think of that as zany that a black person would be a conservative but to me what is zany is any person black, white, red, brown or yellow not being a conservative.
How long the thick dark clouds can prevent the truth from shining? The truth is an arrow that can pass through any shield!
Style is the feather in the arrow, not the feather in the cap.
Cupid in these latter times has probably laid aside his bow and arrow, and uses fire-arms -- a pistol -- perhaps a revolver.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is the will to down-going, and an arrow of longing.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
Om is the bow, the arrow is soul.
Each arrow you shoot off carries its own target into the decidedly secret tangle
When your bow is broken and your last arrow spent, then shoot, shoot with your whole heart.
In February 1953, I was making a second picture with Jeff Chandler, one called War Arrow. Jeff was a real sweetheart, but acting with him was like acting with a broomstick.