Quotes about stair

A collection of quotes on the topic of stair, down, likeness, going.

Quotes about stair

Dante Alighieri photo

“Thou shalt prove how salt is the taste of another man's bread and how hard is the way up and down another man's stairs.”

Canto XVII, lines 58–60 (tr. Sinclair).
The Divine Comedy (c. 1308–1321), Paradiso

William Shakespeare photo
Mark Twain photo

“Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed down-stairs one step at a time.”

Mark Twain (1835–1910) American author and humorist

Variant: Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed downstairs one step at a time.

Tamora Pierce photo
Terry Pratchett photo
John Philip Kemble photo

“Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love,
But—why did you kick me down stairs?”

John Philip Kemble (1757–1823) British actor-manager

The Panel, Act i, Scene 1, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Altered from Isaac Bickerstaff's "'T is Well 't is no Worse"; also found in Debrett's "Asylum for Fugitive Pieces", vol. i., p. 15.

Jordan Peterson photo
A.A. Milne photo
Gordon Lightfoot photo
Edgar Allan Poe photo
Chuck Palahniuk photo

“You have a choice. Live or die.
Every breath is a choice.
Every minute is a choice.
Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist.”

Variant: Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist.
Source: Survivor

Tom Robbins photo
Holly Black photo
Václav Havel photo
Rick Riordan photo
John Steinbeck photo
Cassandra Clare photo
T.S. Eliot photo
John Boyne photo

“He looked the boy up and down as if he had never seen a child before and wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with one: eat it, ignore it or kick it down the stairs.”

John Boyne (1971) Irish novelist, author of children's and youth fiction

Source: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Kelley Armstrong photo
Cassandra Clare photo
Ambrose Bierce photo
Gillian Flynn photo
Arthur Conan Doyle photo
Edna St. Vincent Millay photo
Rick Riordan photo
Connie Willis photo
Rick Riordan photo
Cassandra Clare photo
Jodi Picoult photo
David Levithan photo

“Life tells you to take the elevator, but love tells you to take the stairs.”

David Levithan (1972) American author and editor

Source: Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List

Ayn Rand photo
Stephen Fry photo

“Books are no more threatened by Kindle than stairs by elevators.”

Stephen Fry (1957) English comedian, actor, writer, presenter, and activist
Cassandra Clare photo
Augusten Burroughs photo

“If you fall down those stairs and break both of your legs, don't come running to me!”

Louise Rennison (1951–2016) British writer

Source: Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me?

Rick Riordan photo
Gabrielle Zevin photo
Neil Young photo

“In my little box
At the top of the stair
With my Indian rug
And a pipe to share.”

Neil Young (1945) Canadian singer-songwriter

Pocahontas
Song lyrics, Rust Never Sleeps (1978)

Kate Bush photo

“When you reach for a star
Only angels are there
And it's not very far
Just a step on a stair
Take a look at those clowns
And the tricks that they play
In the circus of life
Life is bitter and gay There are clowns in the night
Clowns everywhere
See how they run
Run from despair …”

Kate Bush (1958) British recording artist; singer, songwriter, musician and record producer

This was a song written for the soundtrack of The Magician of Lublin (1979), based on the 1960 novel by Isaac Bashevis Singer; Kate's singing of it appears at times in the background within the film - YouTube video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkfbkVKmbG0
Song lyrics, Singles and rarities

Gloria Estefan photo
Colm Tóibín photo
Edvard Munch photo
William Congreve photo

“I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a cellar.”

Act II, scene vii; comparable to: "Born in a cellar, and living in a garret", Samuel Foote, The Author, act 2; "Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred", Lord Byron, A Sketch
Love for Love (1695)

Joaquin Miller photo
John Fante photo

“I went up to my room, up the dusty stairs of Bunker Hill, past the soot-covered frame buildings along that dark street, sand and oil and grease choking the futile palm trees standing like dying prisoners, chained to a little plot of ground with black pavement hiding their feet. Dust and old buildings and old people sitting at windows, old people tottering out of doors, old people moving painfully along the dark street. The old folk from Indiana and Iowa and Illinois, from Boston and Kansas City and Des Moines, they sold their homes and their stores, and they came here by train and by automobile to the land of sunshine, to die in the sun, with just enough money to live until the sun killed them, tore themselves out by the roots in their last days, deserted the smug prosperity of Kansas City and Chicago and Peoria to find a place in the sun. And when they got here they found that other and greater thieves had already taken possession, that even the sun belonged to the others; Smith and Jones and Parker, druggist, banker, baker, dust of Chicago and Cincinnati and Cleveland on their shoes, doomed to die in the sun, a few dollars in the bank, enough to subscribe to the Los Angeles Times, enough to keep alive the illusion that this was paradise, that their little papier-mâché homes were castles. The uprooted ones, the empty sad folks, the old and the young folks, the folks from back home. These were my countrymen, these were the new Californians. With their bright polo shirts and sunglasses, they were in paradise, they belonged.”

Ask the Dust (1939)

Alison Bechdel photo
Joaquin Miller photo
Aldo Capitini photo

“I wanted to go away, in the midst of something entirely different,
I had been there, in the house of torture,
I have seen people being kicked, men’s bodies scorched,
nails pulled out with pliers.
Armed with flame and cudgels, grinning men in shirt sleeves.
Where I could hear my friends being thrown headlong
down the stairs.
Night was as day, and long shrieks wounded me.
In vain I tried to think of wooded lanes and flowers,
a serene life and human words.
The thought seized up, it was as if a wound were opened up
again and again and endlessly searched.
From the mouth struck, teeth and blood came out,
and lamenting moans from the deep throat.
Away, away from that house, from that street and town,
from anything similar to it.
I must save myself, keep up my mind,
that I should not be led to madness by these memories.
Oh, if we could go back to a void, from which a new order,
a maternal opening could come forth,
if I hear a certain tone of voice even in jest, I shudder.
My unhappiness is that I avoid the sight of suffering,
hospitals and prisons.
I have yearned for high solitudes, lands of still sunshine
and sweet shadows,
but I would always be pursued by the ghosts of human beings.
All of a sudden I feel the need of distraction and play,
to lose myself in the noise of the fairground.
I remain with you, but forgive me
if you see me sometimes act like a madman.
I try to heal myself by myself, as an animal,
trusting that the wounds will close.
I stop to listen to the simple conversations of the women
in the marketplace, with their dialectical lilt.
I rejoice at the footsteps of running children,
their overpowering calls.
Because you do not know the absurdity of my dreams,
the fixed expressions, the incomprehensible gestures.
There is turmoil inside me, which seems to ridicule me.
And I cannot cry out, not to be like them.
Tomorrow I will go towards some music, now I am getting ready.”

Aldo Capitini (1899–1968) Italian philosopher and political activist
T. H. White photo
Carole King photo
Archibald Primrose, 5th Earl of Rosebery photo

“…it is a revolution without any mandate from the people. (Cheers.) Now, gentlemen, it is in the first place a revolution in fiscal methods…this Budget is introduced as a Liberal measure. If so, all I can say is that it is a new Liberalism and not the one that I have known and practised under more illustrious auspices than these. (Cheers.) Who was the greatest, not merely the greatest Liberal, but the greatest financier that this country has ever known? (A voice, "Gladstone.") I mean Mr. Gladstone. (Cheers.) With Sir Robert Peel—he, I think, occupied a position even higher than Sir Robert Peel—for boldness of imagination and scope of financing Mr. Gladstone ranks as the great financial authority of our time. (Cheers.) Now, we have in the Cabinet at this moment several colleagues, several ex-colleagues of mine, who served in the Cabinet with Mr. Gladstone…and I ask them, without a moment's fear or hesitation as to the answer that would follow if they gave it from their conscience, with what feelings would they approach Mr. Gladstone, were he Prime Minister and still living, with such a Budget as this? Mr. Gladstone would be 100 in December if he were alive; but, centenarian as he would be, I venture to say that he would make short work of the deputation of the Cabinet that waited on him with the measure, and they would soon find themselves on the stairs and not in the room. (Laughter and cheers.) In his eyes, and in my eyes, too, as a humble disciple, Liberalism and Liberty were cognate terms. They were twin-sisters. How does the Budget stand the test of Liberalism so understood and of Liberty as we have always comprehended it? This Budget seems to establish an inquisition, unknown previously in Great Britain, and a tyranny, I venture to say, unknown to mankind…I think my friends are moving on the path that leads to Socialism. How far they are advanced on that path I will not say, but on that path I, at any rate, cannot follow them an inch. (Loud cheers.) Any form of protection is an evil, but Socialism is the end of all, the negation of faith, of family, of prosperity, of the monarchy, of Empire.”

Archibald Primrose, 5th Earl of Rosebery (1847–1929) British politician

Loud cheers.
Speech in Glasgow attacking the "People's Budget" (10 September 1909), reported in The Times (11 September 1909), pp. 7-8.

Conrad Aiken photo
James Comey photo
George S. Patton photo
Stephenie Meyer photo
Caterina Davinio photo

“And I go down the stairs again
with the screeching of my worn out
soul

P. G. tunes instruments
for his golden arm
alchemy in a metropolitan shell

The squeak of time was
thrown back into the cracks
where the plaster has the form of a twisting branch

and my veins are sturdy trunks,
scaly, for drops of green sap
nourishment rising
from the bowels of the earth,
…”

Caterina Davinio (1957) Italian writer

The Book of Opium (1975 - 1990), (Heroin) P. G.'s Basement
Source: Caterina Davinio, Il libro dell'oppio 1975 – 1990 (The Book of Opium 1975 – 1990), Puntoacapo Editrice, Novi Ligure 2012. English translation by Caterina Davinio and David W. Seaman.

John Fante photo
John Keats photo
Gerry Rafferty photo

“Well I don't know why I came here tonight.
I got the feeling that something ain't right.
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs.
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.”

Gerry Rafferty (1947–2011) Scottish singer and songwriter

Stuck in the Middle with You, written with Joe Egan, from the Stealers Wheel album Stealers Wheel (1972).
Song lyrics, With Stealers Wheel

Carole Morin photo
David Bowie photo

“We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago.”

David Bowie (1947–2016) British musician, actor, record producer and arranger

The Man Who Sold the World
Song lyrics, The Man Who Sold the World (1970)

A. C. Benson photo
Maurice Wilkes photo
Tina Fey photo

“If you want to make an audience laugh, you dress a man up like an old lady and push her down the stairs. If you want to make comedy writers laugh, you push an actual old lady down the stairs.”

Tina Fey (1970) American comedian, writer, producer and actress

On Comedy
Source: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2003/11/03/anchor-woman

Gulzarilal Nanda photo

“I had seen him [Mahatama Gandhi] from a distance This was going to be the first personal contact. As I ascended the stairs of Manibahavan…I was feeling the thrill of anticipation of a great event. I entered the room and the awe which the scene inside inspired in my heart has not been erased from my memory. I sat in front of the Mahatma…After a while Gandhiji turned to me and asked me about the work that I was doing…He then inquired about my situation. Would I have to face any difficulties if I came away to join the movement? I reflected for a few fleeting moments. I asked myself…How can an army like this function if every soldier who is recruited has to place his personal difficulties before the General. I replied to him that I had no problems for his consideration. Then an interesting conversation followed. Lala Lajpat Rai took up the thread and asked Gandhiji to permit me to proceed to the Punjab, the place of my origin and join him, in the work of the movement there. Thereafter Shankarlal Banker put forward the argument that since my political birth was in Bombay I should stick to this place. The Mahatma gave his verdict in favour of Bombay and thus the interview ended. I found that Bunker was the key figure in the organization in Bombay then and a number of activities were being carried out under his personal direction.”

Gulzarilal Nanda (1898–1998) Prime Minister of India

In, p. 5-6
Gulzarilal Nanda: A Life in the Service of the People

Ted Kennedy photo

“From the windows of my office in Boston … I can see the Golden Stairs from Boston Harbor where all eight of my great-grandparents set foot on this great land for the first time. That immigrant spirit of limitless possibility animates America even today.”

Ted Kennedy (1932–2009) United States Senator

Attributed to a 2007 Senate speech by Kathy Kiely, "Kennedy 'fashioned the modern day legal system of immigration' " http://www.courier-journal.com/article/20090826/NEWS01/908260380/Kennedy++fashioned+the+modern+day+legal+system+of+immigration+, USA Today, 26 August 2009
Attributed

Theodore L. Cuyler photo

“Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town,
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-gown,
Tirling at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"”

"Wee Willie Winkie" (1841). The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes, 2nd ed. 1997, page 511. ISBN 0-19-860088-7.

Glenn Beck photo

“We must go to God Boot Camp and straighten our own lives up so we can help people out in the rest of the world and guide them down the stairs and out of the building into safety.”

Glenn Beck (1964) U.S. talk radio and television host

"Restoring Honor" rally, Lincoln Memorial, Washington DC, 2010-08-28
2010s, 2010

Dylan Moran photo

“It sounds like typewriters eating tin foil being kicked down the stairs.”

Dylan Moran (1971) Irish actor and comedian

On the German language.
Like, Totally (2006)

William S. Burroughs photo
Ogden Nash photo
Bob Dylan photo

“I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.”

Bob Dylan (1941) American singer-songwriter, musician, author, and artist

Song lyrics, Blood on the Tracks (1975), Tangled Up In Blue

Anthony Burgess photo
Robert G. Ingersoll photo
John Fante photo
Amit Chaudhuri photo

“In the oldest, bunched houses with tottering stairs”

Amit Chaudhuri (1962) contemporary Indian-English novelist

St Cyril Road and Other Poems (2005)

George William Curtis photo
Hugh Macmillan, Baron Macmillan photo

“The throne of Cupid had an easy stair,
His bark is fit to sail with every wind,
The breach he makes no wisdom can repair.”

Edward Fairfax (1580–1635) English translator

Book IV, stanza 34
Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered (1600)

Mickey Spillane photo

“I was thinking too damn much to be careful. When I stabbed my key in the lock and turned it there was a momentary catch in the tumblers before it went all the way around and I swore out loud as I rammed the door with my shoulder and hit the floor. Something swished through the air over my head and I caught an arm and pulled a squirming, fighting bundle of muscle down on top of me.
If I could have reached my rod I would have blown his guts out. His breath was in my face and I brought my knee up, but he jerked out of the way bringing his hand down again and my shoulder went numb after a split second of blinding pain. He tried again with one hand going for my throat, but I got one foot loose and kicked out and up and felt my toe smash onto his groin. The cramp of the pain doubled him over on top of me, his breath sucking in like a leaky tire.
Then I got cocky. I thought I had him. I went to get up and he moved. Just once. That thing in his hand smashed against the side of my head and I started to crumple up piece by piece until there wasn't anything left except the sense to see and hear enough to know that he had crawled out of the room and was falling down the stairs outside. Then I thought about the lock on my door and how I had a guy fix it so that I could tell if it had been jimmied open so I wouldn't step into any blind alleys without a gun in my hand, but because of a dame who lay naked and smiling on a bed I wouldn't share, I had forgotten all about it.”

The Big Kill (1951)

John Fante photo