In vain a zealous evangelist with a fely hat and flowing tie threads his way through the crowd, crying without cease: 'God is great and good. Come unto Him.' On the contrary, they all make haste toward some trivial objective that seems of more immedi...
It's tough out there, boy, and as long as there are people, there’s gonna be somebody trying to take what you got and trying to drag you down. It's up to you whether you let them or not.
In the immortal words of myself, "If our destiny stems from our name, then I weep for the flower named Wilt." Likewise, if cyborgs one day come to be viewed as so human-like that they are accepted as equals, then I cry for the cyborg named Mel T. Dow...
I don’t look for faces in clouds, I look for clouds in faces. And the best place to look is at the face of my friend, Carl Cumulonimbus, who I nicknamed “Rain Factory,” because he’s always either in a dark and stormy mood, or crying heavily.
That kiss was amazing; it had all the passion and longing we had been holding onto for so long. That is when the dam finally broke for me and I started crying. I knew right then that Hunter was the only one I wanted. He was my happily ever after.
Do not cry for me, Azrael. Do not waste your tears. You made your decision. And this is mine. Sacrifice seems to be my destiny. A funny thing for a selfish man, isn't it? They always called me weak back then...
Once you cry it out, it’s supposed to vanish…right? It’s not true. It’s just…a little less. It was the first chink in my brickwall. The wall was still there. And it was still made of bricks,but one, maybe two, had been torn down
I don’t know why it was, exactly, but nothing irritated my father quite like the sound of his children’s happiness. Group crying, he could stand, but group laughing was asking for it, especially at the dinner table.
I almost cried. But I didn't, because if you're in seventh grade and you cry while wearing a blue floral cape and yellow tights with white feathers on the butt, you just have to curl up and die somewhere in a dark alley.
I had a dream about you. Your face was puffy, like a puffer fish, only puffier, and I thought it was from crying. Nope, turns out you were just fat. But at least you were fat and happy.
When he kisses me, I cry. I explain it's not because I wish he were someone else, it's because it's such a shock to the system to be desired after feeling so completely abandoned.
When 'The Walking Dead' has been its best, all that stuff is happening at once: the emotion, action, horror, scares. I'm very proud that I was able to write an episode where a little zombie girl could walk out of a barn after a horrific zombie execut...
And you should hear the music. Incredible, amazing music, like nothing you've ever heard, music that almost takes your head off, you know? That makes you want to scream and jump up and down and break stuff and cry...
I tried to bring up boyfriends and sex. Her great dark eyes surveyed me with emptiness and a kind of chagrin that reached back generations and generations in her blood from not having done what was crying to be done--whatever it was, and everybody kn...
Whoever fears nothingness is nothingness. Whoever has a problem is the problem Whoever cries is the cry. Whoever is depressed is depression. Whoever loves war is war. Whoever loves greed is greed. Whoever loves kindness will be it. Whoever devotes hi...
A loving relationship is one in which the loved one is free to be himself -- to laugh with me, but never at me; to cry with me, but never because of me; to love life, to love himself, to love being loved. Such a relationship is based upon freedom and...
One of the most perplexing political questions of the late 20th century is how new democracies should punish deposed dictators and their associates. Victims cry for justice, but leaders of new regimes must decide to what extent it is possible, moral ...
Toward dawn we shared with you your hour of desolation, the huge lingering passion of your unearthly out cry, as you swung your blind head towards us and laboriously opened a bloodshot, glistening eye, in which we swam with terror and recognition.
If I was to direct Ron Howard, I guarantee you, I would put him through a living hell every day. I would demand so much of him. We wouldn't quit until he leaves the set crying. Weeping! Spent!
Nothing in baseball can bring me down to the level where I was growing up in Pine Bluff, crying and broke. This is fun for me. Whenever you see me slumping, nah, I don't get upset; I'm all right.
In TV, kid roles are like this: You're either in a couple minutes of an episode playing somebody's kid, or you get in these procedurals where you're crying or you're playing a witness or you're playing a crazy person. Every once in a while you get a ...
