And if the computer gives you any back talk, pour some well-sugared office coffee into its evil little silicon brain.
We can talk about it, dream about it and dissect the fine print. In the end, only action satisfies our longing.
Use your natural powers - of persistence, concentration, and insight - to do work you love and work that matters. Solve problems, make art, and think deeply
What's so magical about solitude? In many fields, it's only when you're alone that you can engage in deliberate practice. This is the key to exceptional achievement.
The ministry of the church is a genuine concern for others. We need to stop talking about it and start doing it. Rise. Rise and shine, friend. Everyone you meet today is on heaven's Most Wanted list.
A rock is harder than a feather, you can talk and jabber and make exceptions, but in the end, if you have to choose which one is gonna hit you on the head, you'll choose the feather every single time.
Christ asks for a home in your soul, where he can be at rest with you, where he can talk easily to you, where you and he, alone together, can laugh and be silent and be delighted with one another.
We have never understood how birds manage to fly, Nor who the genius is who makes up dreams, Now how heaven and earth can appear in a poem.
It's all right if people think we are idiots. It's all right if we lie face down on the earth. It's all right if we open the coffin and climb in.
I was convinced that she was about to tell me my card was declined, and assumed Derek wanting to talk later meant he'd soon be telling me our life was declined. Everything, everyone had reached their limits with me.
It's too weird to think about - how death seems to rewrite all the rules. People who never talked to each other can suddenly cry together. People who used to be close can hardly bear to be in the same room.
I am the master of the Whisper Shout. It sounds like my normal talking voice, only breathier. It makes a common I love you sound Top Secret.
I like how cats’ ears can flip inside out. It’s as if they’re saying, Keep talking, human, but I’m not even listening.
I just realized my lips are inside out. They should be turned inwards, because I spend most of my time talking to myself.
I say eek to Zeke Ekez, the imaginary palindrome politician of my dreams. He looks like me, talks like me, and thinks like me, but I won’t vote for him, because I always vote for myself.
When someone is talking about their job, and they turn to me and ask me what I do, I stare off into space, let my eyes glaze over, and wistfully say, “I often wonder what I’m doing.
I met a man with no forehead and receding eyebrows. He had ketchup crusted on his eyelids. I can't remember what we talked about, I just remember him smelling like chicken feed.
L and V, both angular. O and E, both vowels. Coupled together, like a couple of couples coupling and copulating, and you have love. All this talk of sex makes me nostalgic for the Rasputin era.
Today’s man should do more than just talk; he should act. He should do more than just promise; he should deliver.
But there is saying, and there is doing, and almost always people do something better than they can talk about it, as though the minded body defeats every attempt to select out only the mind part as deserving sole responsibility for the success.
Did I come into this world thru the womb of my mother the earth just so I could talk and write like everybody else?
