I did a short film at Outfest, 'Where Are the Dolls,' based on an Elizabeth Bishop poem done, where I play this woman who is sort of walking the streets and ends up alone dancing in a club. I have this hot and heavy scene with a very beautiful actres...
We have to support each other's tired nerves, I know that sounds so Pollyanna, but really... Mommy groups can be amazing, but haven't you ever gone to one and felt like you are back in high school, totally on the outside of the 'cool kids' club? I to...
If you play the same club every week of every month, it's kind of boring. It's great that you can play one night in Brazil and one night in Japan, one night in Europe, and see the world. It's amazing what you see if you travel around the world.
Let the Unions become engines for the working people to right their wrongs. Not benefit societies, or burial clubs. Let the Unions become civilian regiments to fight in the cause of the people.
You can't stay in the dark for too long. Something inside you starts to fade, and you become like a starving person, crazy-hungry for light.
That is the way it is with a wound. The wound begins to close in on itself, to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain.
But you can't stay in the dark for so long. Something inside of you starts to fade and you become like a starving person, crazy-hungry for light.
Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy. And that is why you must learn to swallow your own tears.
This was a townscape raised in the teeth of cold winds from the east; a city of winding cobbled streets and haughty pillars; a city of dark nights and candlelight, and intellect.
Why, the club was just the quietest place in the world, a place where a woman could run in to brush her hair and wash her hands, and change her library book, and have a cup of tea.
However, now she was a schoolgirl no longer. She had discovered how to manage her hair, had been to one or two parties and a night club, and laid on lipstick with the idea that each layer was a layer of sophistication.
Inez and I had been in the same book club for a while. She once told me that literary theory was reading without imagination, and I’ve loved her ever since.
Is it? Because that picture of me was taken by my old school's yearbook club, and they put it in the section titled 'STUDENT FAILSAUCES! XD. What's an XD? A sideways laughing face of horrendous proportions. Don't change the subject.
I practice neither black nor white magic. What I do is a technology that I use for my own individual purposes. I don’t strive to be a member of a club.
When small towns find they cannot harm the strangest of their members, when eccentrics show resilience, they are eventually embraced and even cherished.
You don’t look like anyone special at all,” I tell him. And I curse him. And I start a club to hate him. And I make a magic spell to get rid of him.
Books... are like lobster shells, we surround ourselves with 'em, then we grow out of 'em and leave 'em behind, as evidence of our earlier stages of development.
Boy, the DMV has got to be the strangest dating agency. But I suppose love is worth the wait. If I don’t meet a woman here, there’s this new club called The Morgue I want to check out.
When I'm swinging the club at my best, it's because I'm not thinking about mechanics at all. I feel like my body is loose. My arms are soft in front of me when I'm setting up, and my chest and shoulders feel as if they can move and turn easily.
The way I see it, thinking about the position of the club during the swing is about the worst way to play golf. It makes you tight and defensive, which kills your natural speed and rhythm. Although there's obvious value to minding your technique, at ...
I didn't learn how to swing a golf club until late in my career. And even though I won all those tournaments, I still struggled with consistency, and I relied on my strengths, which were hitting the ball long and high, and I could chip and putt with ...
