I mean obviously, staying alive is pretty fucking important . . . but there’s got to be something beyond that, right?
Well we have to. We have to remember everything. If we don’t, by the time we grow up it’ll be gone forever.
Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?
Your tummy, soft as warm dough. I knead and knead, then bake it with a nap.
Experience is an author’s most valuable asset; experience is the thing that puts the muscle and the breath and the warm blood into the book he writes.
Blood is really warm, it's like drinking hot chocolate but with more screaming.
Willie Mays was the best ever. When I was in college I once made a catch like the one Mays made over his head. Sometimes when I'm lying in bed at night I think about it. It still makes me warm.
One thing I'm working on is an episodic web series titled 'One Warm Night.' It's a kinda crazy, quirky series, filled with a lot of misfits, oddballs... ninjas.
Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well- warmed, and well-fed.
I see clearly that the thing the church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful; it needs nearness, proximity.
Ever since I can remember, I've worn big black boots. They are super warm and get me where I need to go.
Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.
Her body begs to be taken away and put into a warm bed with the sheets pulled high, even though nothing can help now.
Be my friend Hold me, wrap me up Unfold me I am small and needy Warm me up And breathe me
We're living in primate heaven. We're warm, dry, we're not hungry, we don't have fleas and ticks and infections. So why are we so miserable?
Whether you lay cold in the ground or warm in an urn the turmoils of life aren't a concern. For some this may be the perfect rhyme except for those you leave behind...
I'm miles from where you are I lay down on the cold ground And I, I pray that something picks me up And sets me down in your warm arms.
Beautiful sunrise in the far away mountains, painting the wide horizon with vibrant warm colors, among the chill from the morning breeze. ☥
When the groundhog casts his shadow And the small birds sing And the pussywillows happen And the sun shines warm And when the peepers peep Then it is Spring
I am absolutely not a roll-on-stage kind of girl! I would be totally freaked out if I didn't warm up, and I don't know how other singers do it.
No, sir, I'm not saying that charming, witty and warm copy won't sell. I'm just saying I've seen thousands of charming, witty campaigns that didn't sell.
