forever can never be long enough for me to feel that i've had long enough with you
TrainIs it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of were thickset and looked like bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelssly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.
Stichwörter: harry-potter ron-weasley awesome draco-malfoy train crabbe goyle
This was supposed to be yesterday. I was sitting on the Cardiff/London train, supposedly about to write this very column, and realising something quite terrible. My head was entirely empty. A vast echoing void. Bigger on the inside, but with nothing in it. You could drop a pebble in my brain and wait for an hour to hear it land. No actually, you couldn't - that would be aggressive and unhelpful, so keep your damn pebbles to yourself.
Steven MoffatStichwörter: humor writing humour magazine doctor-who train pebbles
I wanted to write an adventure story, not, it's true, I really did. I shall have failed, that's all. Adventures bore me. I have no idea how to talk about countries, how to make people wish they had been there. I am not a good travelling salesman. Countries? Where are they , whatever became of them.
When I was twelve I dreamed of Hongkong. That tedious, commonplace little provincial town! Shops sprouting from every nook and cranny! The Chinese junks pictured on the lids of chocolate boxes used to fascinate me. Junks: sort of chopped-off barges, where the housewives do all their cooking and washing on deck. They even have television. As for the Niagara Falls: water, nothing but water! A dam is more interesting; at least one can occasionally see a big crack at its base, and hope for some excitement.
When one travels, one sees nothing but hotels. Squalid rooms, with iron bedsteads, and a picture of some kind hanging on the wall from a rusty nail, a coloured print of London Bridge or the Eiffel Tower.
One also sees trains, lots of trains, and airports that look like restaurants, and restaurants that look like morgues. All the ports in the world are hemmed in by oil slicks and shabby customs buildings. In the streets of the towns, people keep to the sidewalks, cars stop at red lights. If only one occasionally arrived in a country where women are the colour of steel and men wear owls on their heads. But no, they are sensible, they all have black ties, partings to one side, brassières and stiletto heels. In all the restaurants, when one has finished eating one calls over the individual who has been prowling among the tables, and pays him with a promissory note. There are cigarettes everywhere! There are airplanes and automobiles everywhere.
Stichwörter: adventure travel country automobile restaurant train airport airplane hotel morgue
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.
Stichwörter: flight new-england flying airplanes trains train massachusetts boston mbta south-station the-train
[...] its small squares of fast-passing light, the early evening windows of the lives of hundreds of others.
Ali SmithBu yerlerde trenler doğudan batıya, batıdan doğuya gider gelir, gider gelirdi... Bu yerlerde demiryolunun her iki yanında ıssız, engin, sarı kumlu bozkırların özeği Sarı Özek uzar giderdi. Coğrafyada uzaklıklar nasıl Greenwich meridyeninden başlıyorsa, bu yerlerde de mesafeler demiryoluna göre hesaplanırdı. Trenler ise doğudan batıya, batıdan doğuya gider gelir, gider, gelirdi...
Chingiz AitmatovAtilla Josef istasyonunda indim trenden
uzandım hayatın üstüne boylu boyunca
ilk maaşımı almıştım son defa Şirket-i Hayriye’den
deniz ve tren; ikisiyle de şiire giderdim ben
Trains are relentless things, aren't they, Monsieur Poirot? People are murdered and die, but they go on just the same. I am talking nonsense, but you know what I mean."
"Yes, yes, I know. Life is like a train, Mademoiselle. It goes on. And it is a good thing that that is so."
"Why?"
"Because the train gets to its journey's end at last, and there is a proverb about that in your language, Mademoiselle."
"'Journey's end in lovers meeting.'" Lenox laughed. "That is not going to be true for me."
"Yes--yes, it is true. You are young, younger than you yourself know. Trust the train, Mademoiselle, for it is le bon Dieu who drives it."
The whistle of the engine came again.
"Trust the train, Mademoiselle," murmured Poirot again. "And trust Hercule Poirot. He knows.
Stichwörter: life love trust poirot train
Every small town that I had ever been to had had a caboose.
Laura MillerStichwörter: small-town train butterfly-weeds caboose
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