For the most part, boys are very physical. It's not enough for them to be told they have what it takes and they have greatness. They have to discover for themselves. We learn by doing. The doing has to be somewhat physical.
From whichever angle one looks at it, the application of racial theories remains a striking proof of the lowered demands of public opinion upon the purity of critical judgment.
My new favorite quote is, "Feed kids Cokes and french fries and you get an obesity crisis. Feed them mental junk food and you get non-readers and poor thinkers.
And I know how many DJ pools have grown and I know how DJing has grown in the overall, but that was the technical side of it to me. DJs were rolling around, looking for stuff to buy and looking to see what was in the store when they get there.
Back in the day, if someone said that hip hop and rap was a fad, that was a joke to me because they just didn't know what they were talking about. In reality, there were so many people who didn't know what they were talking about it.
If I was president, of course I'd want an amendment banning boy bands, but it just wouldn't be right, and I wouldn't do it. Then again... I don't want to paint myself into a corner on this one. Let me think about it.
People rarely speak of children; you hear of 'cohort groups' and 'standard variations,' but you don't hear much of boys who miss their cats or 6-year-olds who have to struggle with potato balls.
My mother married my father in 1956. She was twenty-eight, and he was thirty-one. She loved him with a fierce steadiness borne of loyalty, determination, and an unyielding dignity.
Middle-class mothers and fathers turned out to be a very well-defined consumer group, easily gulled into buying almost anything that might remedy their parental deficiencies.
I was a very sickly boy when I was young; nearly died when I was 7. I had a life-threatening attack of meningitis, and that put me in a coma for a few months. It took me four years to get my memory back.
Mrs. Marcus: [holding cactus plant] Well, uh, where shall I put this? J. Russell Finch: [double take] Oh, boy.
Mrs. Marcus: [holding a planter containing several cactus] Well, where should I put this? J. Russell Finch: [scoffing] Oh, boy.
Milo Tindle: It looks like you've had it. They're coming up the drive. Andrew Wyke: Keep them out! Milo Tindle: Keep the police out? It's just not done, old boy. But still, I'll try.
Jack Burridge: Jack. Terry: What? Jack Burridge: That's the name I want. Terry: [slowly] Okay... Jack Burridge: Jack. Terry: Well, that's the first thing taken care of.
I dress like a boy most of the time because I like what's comfortable, so sometimes when I have to wear dresses and makeup, it's kind of comedic. I take lots of pictures on my cell phone: 'Look, I'm dressed like a girl! Surprise!'
My grandmother made sure that I went to church every Sunday. And she'd come over and pick us boys up, and we would go to the Nazarene church. And back then, that was about as close to heaven as I ever got, because just the time to be able to spend wi...
A long time ago, when all the grandfathers and grandmothers of today were little boys and little girls or very small babies, or perhaps not even born, Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura and Baby Carrie left their little house in the Big Woods of Wisconsin.
I loved the time I got to spend in Denver. My boys, Arin and Ryan, were growing up. I got to spend time with them without being pried upon. There was no public scrutiny. I was free and could take them to the supermarket or to the park without being n...
We should abolish 'work.' By that I mean abolishing the distinction between work and leisure, one of the greatest mistakes of the last century, one that enables employers to keep workers in lousy jobs by granting them some leisure time.
Old Mr.: Boy, you goin' let this ol' nappy-headed girl cuss you out like that? You sittin' at the head of your own dinner table and actin' like the waiter!
Sofia: [after telling Celie she knows how she feels] Oh... Sofia home, now. Sofia home. Things is gonna be changin' around here. Pass me them peas, boy.
