We have three daughters, our own. And, of course, there's nothing more frightening than something bad happening to them. And also, the thought of our children turning bad in some ways is another frightening thought.
People naturally want to know about what happened, about my leukemia. They ask the same questions again and again. And there have been so many positive conclusions, even through the bad times, that I don't mind at all to be reminded of my struggles.
I can't understand people who give up and commit suicide. If I have a bad day, I figure tomorrow will be better. And even if it isn't, at least it isn't any worse.
Despite a few really bad days we had quite a lot of fun making Low, especially when all the radical ideas were making sense and things were starting to click.
To read is to translate, for no two persons' experiences are the same. A bad reader is like a bad translator: he interprets literally when he ought to paraphrase and paraphrases when he ought to interpret literally.
Occasionally if I look back at something I've written I'll find one of those that I don't understand, but that's a bad thing - the unconscious has dealt me a bad hand.
In the comic-book world, there tends to be an overblown sense of tradition. Bad habits die hard. There are ways I think the form could work more effectively if we lost the bad habits that were created before we were born.
The paranormal bad boy is usually a fiercely loyal partner for the heroine. Once his sights are set on her, he doesn't notice other women, and he's utterly unconcerned with what anyone else thinks of his choice.
But my point is these Civil War songs were gruesome. The hatred that's so bad in this country today, and for the past 10 or 15 years, bad as it is, is nothing compared to the kind of things people would write down and sing back in the Civil War.
Any game where the goal is to build territory has to be beautiful. There may be phases of combat, but they are only means to an end, to allow your territory to survive. One of the most extraordinary aspects of the game of go is that it has been prove...
One of the supreme paradoxes of baseball, and all sports, is that the harder you try to throw a pitch or hit a ball or accomplish something, the smaller your chances are for success. You get the best results not when you apply superhuman effort but w...
Caesar Flickerman: We have seen a lot of tears here tonight, but I see no tears in Johanna's eyes. Johanna, you are angry. Tell me why. Johanna Mason: Yeah, well, yes! I am angry. You know, I'm getting totally screwed over here. Caesar Flickerman: Uh...
Herb Brooks: Great moments are born from great opportunity. And that's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here, tonight. One game. If we play'em 10 times, they might win 9. But not this game. Not tonight. Tonight we skate wit...
Herb Brooks: I got a telegram from a lady in Texas today, and you know what it said? Patty Brooks: What? Herb Brooks: Beat those Commie bastards. We're playing a hockey game against the greatest team in the world, and they're the best that's ever pla...
You must have crossed the river before you may tell the crocodile he has bad breath.
But how a game plan came to be, what a finished plan looked like, I had no idea. I’d heard that all copies were shredded as soon as the game was over.
One way of seeing all this was as a symptom of postmillennial decay, the degradation of public discourse, and the encroachment of celebrity worship into the arena of national affairs. Another way of looking at it was as an indication of the GOP's sta...
Be careful of him Dai, whether you agree with me or not that boy is a time bomb just waiting to explode, and when he does he’s going hit everyone in his way including you . . . or especially you.-- Benjirou Uie warning Dai about Kane from "Game Boy...
Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was afraid." "What do you think?" his father asked. Bran thought about it. "can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" "That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him.
No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed to almost vanish when seen edge on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing and a ghost light that played ...
We were talking about the prince,' Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss. Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally.
