#seb

But baseball was different. Schwartz thought of it as Homeric - not a scrum but a series of isolated contests. Batter versus pitcher, fielder versus ball. You couldn't storm around, snorting and slapping people, the way Schwartz did while playing football.You stood and waited and tried to still your mind. When your moment came, you had to be ready, because if you fucked up, everyone would know whose fault it was. What other sport not only kept a stat as cruel as the error but posted it on the scoreboard for everyone to see? ↗

— Chad Harbach

#art

I can count all the lovers I've had on one hand...if I'm holding a calculator. ↗

— Sebastian Horsley

#humor #lovers #sebastian-horsley #sex #humor

The economics of baseball are the big problem. The big clubs make a lot of money and the little clubs don't. ↗

— Fay Vincent

#big #big problem #clubs #economics #little

How simple life is. It's as simple as this: you're hungry and you eat, you're full and you shit. Between eating and shitting, that's where human life is found. - (Houseboy + Maid, in Tales from Djakarta) ↗

— Pramoedya Ananta Toer

#houseboy-and-maid #jongos-dan-babu #life-between-eating-and-shitting #pramoedya #tales-from-djakarta

Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. ↗

— George Gordon Byron

#life

She had fouled off of the curves that life had thrown at her. ↗

— W.P. Kinsella

#curve-ball #foul #resilience #life

I vow to spend the rest of my life keeping your hands and feet warm. ↗

— Julia Quinn

#bevelstoke #julia-quinn #sebastian-grey #ten-things-i-love-about-you #life

Baseball wasn't easy for me. ↗

— Ryne Sandberg

#easy #me

There's a reason diehard fans get to the ballpark hours before game time. It’s not for better parking. It’s not for extra time to find our seats. It’s not so we’ll have time to down an extra hot dog, heavy on the mustard, prior to the first pitch. It’s called BP. ↗

— Tucker Elliot

#baseball-philosophy-life #life

What do you want most in life, Miss Willow?" "For my mother to be well." "Imagine you had that." His fingers rested on the nape of her neck. "What do you want for yourself?" "Peace on earth?" "Come, Miss Willow. I want a serious answer from you. Better yet, a selfish one." Though she stood inches from him, she seemed not to notice their proximity. As a grown man, he could control his base urges. He'd done so for years. He would do better by her than his father and brothers. Slowly, he lifted his fingers from the back of her neck. His palm took their place. Head tilted, she considered him. "You'll laugh." "Try me." "A family. Children." "What? Not thousands of pounds at your disposal? A mansion? Jewels to dazzle you? Servants at your beck and call?" She rested the side of her head against the doorway and looked at him from beneath her thick red lashes. "I always thought I'd be married one day with half a dozen children at my knees." Her eyes danced again, and for a moment, the space of a breath, he was caught like a fly in a web. "I was right about the children at least, though I was sure they'd be mine." "Are you sorry?" What soft skin she had, such a tender nape. "That I'm not a wife and mother?" "Mm." He imagined her with a husband, with children. His children. He saw her gravid by his doing, and him cradling an infant in his arms, the one he'd made in her. He could give her what she wanted, and, of course, he could imagine the act of making her so. ↗

— Carolyn Jewel

#olivia #sebastian #the-spare #family