I didn't like anything. Maybe I was afraid. That was it - I was afraid. I wanted to sit alone in a room with the shades down. I feasted upon that. I was a crank. I was a lunatic.
I had problems a therapist couldn't solve; grief that no man in a room could ameliorate.
I’ll wipe a booger on your living room wall, not only to show I was there, but also to say thanks for having me over.
It's just like John Mayer says in "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room". When it's this bad, you have to get out or you'll get burned.
Sometimes he missed the numbed, walking-underwater feeling feel that the cocktail of narcotics used to give him. But if a situation went down in here, he was going to need all of his wits to get out of it.
I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.
Ask any teenage girl to describe her perfect bedroom, and you'll get answers like 'a room with a private phone line, a place to hang out with friends, and for it to be way-cool and funky.' Ask parents the same question, and 'a locked door that opens ...
Certainly as an actor, half of your work is not going to end up on the screen anyway, because in the editorial process, they need to cut to the other actor in the scene. Very often, your best work ends up on the cutting room floor, because it just do...
When we are trying to come up with new health laws, you bring doctors, you bring experts in medicine. In urban planning, you bring the best architects. How it is possible that when we are talking about the way we are going to feed America, no chef sh...
When they kissed she immediately felt his tongue, tensed and strong, pushing past her teeth, like some bully shouldering his way into a room. Entering her.
He treats his body like it's made of fireworks, each one timed to the beat. Is he dancing alone or dancing with everyone in the room? Here's the secret: It doesn't matter.
Diesel" - his name sounded sweet coming out of her mouth --"I want you, and I mean I really, really want you. Please. Let's go back to my room.
Magnus placed an order with the room service, who had by now stopped questioning Mr. Bane's unusual needs for things like twenty-four plates of scrambled eggs and “ ”.
I had one guy pretend to be me, go to a hotel room, and tell the people at the front desk that it was me, and then he went in and stole all of our luggage. There's always that eager beaver that wants to be a part of the team and comes off as a sticky...
People think that I can just walk into a room and get a job, but of the 200 interviews and auditions I go through a year, I may get three yeses. I just have to use my sense of humour to get me through.
What have I done to her?" Gabriel muttered to himself as he crossed the room to crank open a window. Cool air washed over his skin. "What the devil did she do to me?
When I was a boy, my older brothers listened to Earth, Wind & Fire and Kool and the Gang. When I would try to get into their room, they would close the door and say, 'You can't hear that. It's not for a child!' Now, I can listen to it and enjoy it.
I can't give more than I have. It doesn't matter if I am the most beautiful person in the room. There is inevitably going to be somebody way shinier and more tan than my pasty self.
No seriously... when there's families, you tend to go back to your room after the gig rather than go for a drink with the other guys. But there's always someone who's got something going, like the tour manager.
I saw this thing years ago, where somebody filled a gymnasium with ping-pong balls and mousetraps. And then somebody threw just one more ping-pong ball in there, and literally, in five seconds, the room was popping. And then it was dead. And that's h...
This meeting was like many of the meetings that I would go to over the course of two years. The only way I can describe it is that, well, the president is like a blind man in a roomful of deaf people. There is no discernible connection.
