What's the use of crying, and retching, and belching, all day long, like your lady downstairs? Life has its sad side, and we must take the rough with the smooth. Why, maids have died on their marriage eve, or, what's worse, bringing their first baby into the world, and the world's wagged on all the same. Life's sad enough, in all conscience, but there's nothing to be frightened about in it or to turn one's stomach. I was country-bred, and as my old granny used to say, "There's no clock like the sun and no calendar like the stars." And why? Because it gets one used to the look of Time. There's no bogey from over the hills that scares one like Time. But when one's been used all one's life to seeing him naked, as it were, instead of shut up in a clock, like he is in Lud, one learns that he is as quiet and peaceful as an old ox dragging the plough. And to watch Time teaches one to sing. They say the fruit from over the hills makes one sing. I've never tasted so much as a sherd of it, but for all that I can sing.

You cannot take the lift when there is only stairs.

God will not be used as a convenience. Men or nations who think they can revive the Faith in order to make a good society might just as well think they can use the stairs of heaven as a shortcut to the nearest chemist's shop.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Adam asked as we went back upstairs.

Shut up!" Eve yelled from somewhere upstairs. "Jackass!

"Coach Hedge came pounding up the stairs with Hazel at his hooves.

Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more.

"Stairs," Valkyrie said, disappointed.

I had a dream about you last night... you were a giant slinky and I watched you fall down the stairs.

"As Kevin climbed the three flights of stairs to his apartment, his brain formulated a vague plan of action. He could not have explained it to anyone or even to himself in coherent sentences. But the outline was there in Kevin's subconscious. It would not only change his life, but many others, as well.

I had a dream about you. You were an escalator, and I was a flight of stairs. You thought I was a Luddite, and I thought I was as ostrich, because I hadn't figured out how to put the fly in flight. One day you broke down, and then you saw that you and I weren't so different after all.

Failures are the stairs we climb to reach success.

I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was - I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

Faith goes up the stairs that love has built and looks out the windows which hope has opened.

Man unlike anything organic or inorganic in the universe grows beyond his work walks up the stairs of his concepts emerges ahead of his accomplishments.

If I have to move up in a building I choose the elevator over the escalator. Because one time I was riding the escalator and I tripped. I fell down the stairs for an hour and a half.

I have piles of poetry books in the bathroom on the stairs everywhere. The only way to write poetry is to read it.

I could wake up six in the morning go downstairs and record. I learned how to use ProTools and everything. Whenever I felt it I could record.

This morning I was laughing at my cat who was running up the stairs and slipped and pretended like it didn't happen.

We climbed the stairs to the third floor where Osama bin Laden died early in the morning of May 2 2011.

There would be nights when I would wake up and couldn't get back to sleep. So I would go downstairs and write. The staff had a pool going on how many pages of typing I would bring in here in the morning.

In the last year my wife has noticed me struggling to get downstairs on a Sunday morning. I've two young children and football has been so good to me over the years I don't want to spoil it.

My mom was a big 'Smurfs' fan so she would force me to watch every Saturday morning. I had no choice in the matter. I would jump downstairs on Saturday morning 'Hurray cartoons!' and she would say 'Smurfs! That's what you're watching.'

My mom would give me a piece to play but I wouldn't do any theory because when it came time to do it I would sneak back upstairs and watch TV. So I had these kind of nonchalant lessons for years then it just started soaking in.