Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Junkyard. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Junkyard Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Jean Rostand,Paul Walker,Sean O'casey,David Mccullough,S.w. Fairbrother for you to enjoy and share.
God, that dumping ground of our dreams.
I'm a crazy car guy. I've got an airplane hangar full of cars.
The whole worl's in a state o' chassis.
locomotive, Special trucks
the sort of place you went when you had no other options.
This year - a factory of semiconductors. Next year - a factory of whole conductors!
We were in recycling before recycling was cool.
Sawdust in the gear-boxes, the electric-drill on the speedometer cables,
With Animal Factory you'd think that because it's mostly interiors, you could shoot it anywhere. So we shot this in Philadelphia, and we had the cooperation of the prison system.
the remnants of a person's life inevitably ended up at the nearest dump.
shopping trolleys
You ingest the automobile in the very air of Detroit. Or at least you did in the 1940s and 1950s.
There is no such thing as garbage, just useful stuff in the wrong place.
I'm goin past factories. Boxes of metal with people inside. Souls bein ripped apart.
If I don't have room for an item, I put it in warehouses.
I hate crap, I like craftsmanship
Moose Factory (I wonder if they make moose there?)
At a flea market I always head for the junk jewelry table first.
The garage is the space for the hacker, the tinkerer, the maker. The garage is not defined by a single field or industry; instead, it is defined by the eclectic interests of its inhabitants. It is a space where intellectual networks converge.
Junk stands and antique markets are the perfect place to pick up clues about the history of a country, region or town.
My workplace is wherever I'm making something, which could be in a field in gold country, or in an abandoned warehouse on a military base.
Who died in the shop and how does it already smell like something has been decaying in the hot sun?"
"Oh, you know us. Brought home some roadkill for kicks."
"You didn't wait for me? You know how much I love roadkill. I mean, roadkill is the gift that keeps on giving.
If you don't take care of this the most magnificent machine that you will ever be given ... where are you going to live?
Death's the discarder.
Of all the priceless objects left behind, this is what we rescue. These artifacts. Memory cues. Useless souvenirs. Nothing you could auction. The scars left from happiness.
I find the single most valuable tool in my darkroom is my trash can
Sitting at the single table in a disreputable pile of lumber mistakenly called a building.
It's hard to work on an assembly line of broken hearts Not supposed to fix them, only strip and sell the parts
Some trash is recycled, some is thrown away, some ends up where it shouldn't end up.
An elevator. The doors of the elevator were gone, as were the cab and the lift mechanism, sold for reuse or for scrap.
I used to always work in, like, warehouses, because if my boss gave me a rough time, I could just get on a forklift and just, like, drive away from him.
Down Where the Drunkards Roll." "How
Miles of junk to throw out
how do you decide what to keep when everything is sentiment.
In a breaker's yard you discover anything can have a new life, be reborn as part of a car or railway carriage, or a shovel blade. You take that older life and you link it to a stranger.
The factory is the machine that builds the machine.
Waste Management was based in Chicago, but I lived in Ft. Lauderdale and for 10 years had to commute to work - catch the 5 P.M. Sunday flight to Chicago and the midnight return flight on Friday.
Blasted doorknob of a kender
Brookfield High School. How may I direct your call? No, sir, this is not a waste- disposal unit, I'm afraid you have the wrong number.
And of storehouses and of freight-trains - destruction
Secondhand experience breaks down a block from the car lot.
Whoever wanted this trunk
The churchyard. Walled in by houses and overrun with weeds, choked up with too much buying.
The junk merchant doesn't sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to his product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise. He degrades and simplifies the client.
I don't spot junk neighbourhoods by the way they look, but by the feel, somewhat the same process by which a dowser locates hidden water. I am walking along and suddenly the junk in my cells moves and twitches like the dowsers wand: 'Junk here!
I build engines and attach wheels to them.
I think of my art materials not as junk but as garbage. Manure, actually: it goes from being the waste material of one being to the life-source of another.
CINCINNATI MORGUE, AN EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SERVICE SINCE 1966.
dirt, but the machine began to make
If you are a junkyard dog, you assume that that's what life is: chained up, barking all day.
I love working on cars.
old textile mill, which was in the process of being
I didn't take the death-and-dismemberment talk very seriously. Where could you rent a chainsaw at this time of night?
What is life but a fucked-up factory fabricating fuckups?
Tailor gang they rolling up those paper planes.
I'm pretty much a thrift shop gal. Flea markets on Sundays.
I've gutted that poor rover so much, it looks like I parked it in a bad part of town.
I've been re-created by a designer who loves to recycle. My
neighborhood, the place I left each
On the wall of this yard there was the wording, painted in high letters: Reliable Autos. We get you there.
"Get you where?" asked Fanwell. Chobie smiled. "Where you want to get. That's where everybody's heading, after all. To where they want to get.
Abandoned like an empty beer bottle, cigarette butt, worn-out shoe.
truck. He backed
When a machine begins to run without human aid, it is time to scrap it - whether it be a factory or a government.
Rememberatorium),
You make Gifford Industries sound like some sort of two-bit Mafia-owned New Jersey garbage-hauling company." I thought of a few rejoinders - I'm just wired that way - but I held my tongue.
You must write for the waste basket.
Stops at the end of the road collected Clyde Lidgards like dams collected silt.
I work with things left over from other things.
The slick bare tar, the same suburban station.
The abandoned traffic lights stare at us like empty eye sockets. Fields have gone to weed. There's a little town of houses that have been haphazardly repaired by boards and scraps of metal.
poking around in this dump, as it would be
Obviously, waste disposal is an enormous and fantastic industry.
Scrap doesn't come for free, we pay someone to make it.
The factory that my grandmother had put under the house to produce these green men to come get me.
Our modern industrial economy takes a mountain covered with trees, lakes, running streams and transforms it into a mountain of junk, garbage, slime pits, and debris.
town. In the back of his
A consultant: someone brought in to build a one-handled wheelbarrow.
go-go hall on my way home from school.
were in need of bodywork. It had always amused
What is the crowning glory of your civilization ... the symbol as clear a statement as the pyramids, the Parthenon, the cathedrals? What is this symbol? What is its name? Its name is Junk. Junk is the rusty, lovely, brilliant symbol of the dying years of your time. Junk is your ultimate landscape.
The strange sense of being disassembled
My wife and I, unlike many intellectuals, spent five years working on assembly lines. We came to fully understand the criticisms of the industrial age, in which you are an appendage of a machine that sets the pace.
My father was in the paper recycling business back before they called it recycling.
where you'd parked your Civic.
Among the heaps of brick and plaster lies/ a girder, still itself among the rubbish
At a tiny station in New Albany, Indiana, which is right across from the river from Louisville, Kentucky, where I grew up. The Louisville stations were loath to hire beginners, so I had to go across the river.
Does that body require disposal, sir?
Cars like that shouldn't be left in storage. It causes mechanical issues. With brakes and tires and engines and such."
My smile returned. "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?"
"Not a word.
yard where the trees were, where the carhouse was, and
Worn old shoes need a good cobbler to be repaired; but worn old thoughts, only a rubbish bin!
by the side of a road and drove off. Whenever the careering grandkids
What's the Matter with the Mill?
Who will tend the farm museums who will dust the day belongings?
So there was this unlicensed brothel down in sector 18. We went thinking we'd be hauling fifteen, twenty people in. More, maybe. Got there, and the place was stripped to the stone,
junkies involved is in rough shape. We need
engineer finishes
With each replacement of parts, a car slowly becomes Chinese.
I find my movie props in my neighbors houses.
Headquarters in the Saddle.
The throwaway economy that has been evolving over the last half-century is an aberration, now itself headed for the junk heap of history.
Somewhere high overhead on the other side of the freighter, metal ground against metal making a sound like angry mechanical whales fucking.