On the manufacturing side, surfing was a lot harder than sailing. You had to find guys who could shape, who could glass, and you're looking for good people among all these surfers, you know. Keeping the quality up was always a problem.
The 'good' mother, with her fixed smile, her rigidity, her goody-goody outlook, her obsession with unnecessary hygiene, is in fact a fool. It is the 'bad' mother, unafraid of a joke and a glass of wine, richly self-expressive, scornful of suburban va...
My writing partner, Nicki, and I became obsessed with a monologist who performs unscripted shows equipped with nothing more than scribbled bullet points and a glass of water. We wrote him a fan letter and found ourselves sharing lunch and eventually ...
We all come to the point where it's time to get yourself straight, as a businesswoman, a mother, whatever you are in life. It's tough love but it's also being real with yourself. It's important to take those rose-coloured glasses off and see what's g...
People are constantly asking Portia and me if we are going to have children. We thought about it. We love to be around children after they've been fed and bathed. But we ultimately decided that we don't want children of our own. There is far too much...
My first job was when I was eight. I did this opera, which was a Robert Wilson/Philip Glass opera, called 'White Raven.' That was a very confusing and trippy creation tale, and I was a kid who brought up the sun and rotated the earth. It was very emp...
When Philip Glass asked me if I would be interested in doing a new recording of Jesus' Blood he assumed that I would do something similar to the first version and wanted to know what other pieces would be on the same CD.
I played football for Leeds United under-18s, but at 17 my eyes started to go and I had to wear glasses. The football had to go - there were no contact lenses in 1957.
You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilization from barbarism. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass. A touch here, a push there, and you bring back the reign of Saturn.
Stuffed deer heads on walls are bad enough, but it’s worse when you see them wearing dark glasses, having streamers around their necks and a hat on their antlers. Because then you know they were enjoying themselves at a party when they were shot.
I got rid of my glasses and they changed my hair. That's really all they did. They went shopping for me, so the clothes are different too. It wasn't like Extreme Makeover where I got a nose job or anything.
I ordered each man to be presented with something, as strings of ten or a dozen glass beads apiece, and thongs of leather, all which they estimated highly; those which came on board I directed should be fed with molasses.
One who hates is a man holding a magnifying-glass, and when he hates someone, he knows precisely that person's surface, from the soles of his feet all the way up to each hair on the hated head.
Things can be fixed. Relationship CANNOT. Its like standing on a cracked glass plane, you might just adjust yourself for the time being but there will always be a fear of increasing the cracks, fear of falling through, fear of being destroyed.
Somebody just gave me a shower radio. Thanks a lot. Do you really want music in the shower? I guess there's no better place to dance than a slick surface next to a glass door.
End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.
And you have to remember that I came to America as an immigrant. You know, on a ship, through the Statue of Liberty. And I saw that skyline, not just as a representation of steel and concrete and glass, but as really the substance of the American Dre...
So we went to bed, assaulted by sleep that fumed at us from medicine glasses, or was wielded from small sweet-coated tablets -- dainty bricks of dream wrapped in the silk stockings of oblivion.
Hans Gruber: [during a shootout with McClane, who is barefoot] Karl, schieß dem Fenster [sic] Hans Gruber: [Karl gives Hans a puzzled look. Exasperated, Hans repeats it in English] *Shoot* the *glass!
First Judge: That sort of testimony we can eliminate. Chicolini: Atsa fine. I'll take some. First Judge: You'll take what? Chicolini: Eliminate. A nice, cold glass eliminate.
Ferris: [Hiding on the floor of the taxi while his father is in the car next to him] What's he doing? Sloane: He's licking the glass and making obscene gestures with his hands.
