I don't want to dive into that mud slide, which is what I consider the literary process.
Racism is always there underneath, but usually it is exploited in these times of economic crisis, and it's hard to find out when one slides into another.
I don't want to read what is going to slide down easily; there has to be some crunch, a certain amount of resilience.
A grieving person's like a person treading in deep water--if they've nothing to hold on to, they lose hope. They slide right under.
Taking a hypersensitive approach to life had come to seem so much more pure and honest then joining the ranks of the numb masses who could let it all slide by. What I stopped realizing was that if you feel everything intensely, ultimately you feel nothing at all. Everything registers at the same decibel...
How seldom we recognize the sound when the bolt of our fate slides home.
One of the things I find very difficult about theatre is the repetition - that something can slide away from your original intentions.
I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.
If she wasn't careful, she'd slide without a ripple into the gently flowing stream of her old life, pulled back under the current without a wimper of protest. Another housewife lost in the flow.
I thought deeply about this. I ended up concluding that the worst thing that could possibly happen as we get big and as we get a little more influence in the world is if we change our core values and start letting it slide, I can't do that. I'd rather quit.