Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.
Easy for you to say. You're the one who got plowed. I was doing the plowing." Cam's mouth opened. Oh my God, did I really just say that? I had.
I could open my mail, but isn’t the mystery more fun? So you see, I’m not disorganized after all. I’m a romantic.
When I’m exhausted, I can sleep through anything. One time I slept though a wall—and there wasn’t even a door or opening.
Oh Paris From red to green all the yellow dies away Paris Vancouver Hyeres Maintenon New York and the Antilles The window opens like an orange The beautiful fruit of light ("Windows")
I'm in a difficult position in the sense that, preposterous as this might sound, I don't like being the centre of attention. I get up on stage every night and play songs, but I almost feel the songs are the centre of attention. I don't like opening m...
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 ...
I take what I see work. I'm a strict believer in the scientific principle of believing nothing, only taking the best evidence available at the present time, interpreting it as best you can, and leaving your mind open to the fact that new evidence wil...
I experience psychic phenomena, so people think I must be crazy. But you have to be accessible and intelligent to be a good actor. I might not have gotten the best grades in school, but I have a very high level of emotional intelligence. You have to ...
First, I thought Twitter was some kind of hybrid car being developed by Government Motors. Then I thought it was a new bite-size snack combining what's best of the Frito and the Cheeto. Then I found out it was me. On a laptop. At the U.S. Open. Havin...
My life is unrecognisable compared to what it was - 'Game of Thrones' has opened doors that were never there before. But it can be dangerous to see it in those terms, I think. It's best to take it as it comes and work as hard as you can, and hopefull...
Whatever causes you to drop your plan forward and open to your vision, your own, deeply personal vision of what your life could be at its very best, that's what I call meeting your rhinoceros.
We humans usually feel that we are the best at everything we do, that we can safely drive ourselves. But tens of thousands of people die every year. We need to be open to having technology assist us, to find ways in which technology makes us safer.
I love working with directors who have good taste. It's incredible when a director can say something and things open up for you. I went to The University of North Carolina School of the Arts, and some of my best experiences on sets have been working ...
I organise jam sessions every month. We have an open session, so everyone knows about it, and we can get as many as 30 people showing up at the house. Somebody will play a tune, and everyone will pick up on it. My best friends are all musicians.
Her green eyes flutter all the way open, and she looks amused. It pricks his ego slightly. After kiss, shouldn’t she be fainting at his feet? But she’s grinning.
We are now parents. The love for our offspring has opened up fresh fountains of love for each other. Edwin Stanton to his wife.
But was it worth anything? That's the hopelessness of it. The openness of it. The part of it I can never understand. I am afraid of ambiguity and certainity and permanence and impermanence. And so is everybody else.
The front door swung open, and Zsadist strode into the house. Wrath glared. "Nice of you to show up, Z. Busy tonight with the females?" "How about you get off my dick?
Everyone is asleep. They've all been asleep for years. You seemed ... awake.' Alex is whispering now. He closes his eyes, opens them again.'I'm tired of sleeping.
It started to rain. Fat, heavy drops of summer rain - the kind that always struck her as vaguely lewd and debauched. Little potbellied drunkards, those summer raindrops, chortling on their way to earth and crashing open with glee.
