Homer Stokes: Those boys desecrated a burning cross!
Homer Stokes: And so, we gonna hang us a negro!
Pete: My pa always said "Never trust a Hogwallop!"
Captain: Wait, that doesn't look like Earth. Where's the blue sky? Where's the-the grass?
The calm mind allows one to connect with the inner self, the Soul, the very source of our being. That's where the music lives. That's where my music comes from.
I don't know, my music has always just come from where the wind blew me. Like where I'm at during a particular moment in time.
No one decides where I go, least of all myself, though each step is where it must be.
If you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders.
The studio is meant to be always a place where, first of all, they can be out of spotlight, and second, where they could work with a peer group on parts that they might not have played otherwise.
I think the reason we sometimes have the false sense that God is so far away is because that is where we have put him. We have kept him at a distance, and then when we are in need and call on him in prayer, we wonder where he is. He is exactly where ...
I don't want to be kept ! I don't want to have someone constantly trying to keep me from tripping on my own incompetence. I want to live in a world where I know the rules, where people are just people. Not one where they keep trying to eat me. That's...
I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
Begin. . . where you are, NOT where you want to be. Begin stuck in the doldrums of your false story--if that is where you are. Begin there because, in truth, there is no other place to start from. Tell yourself that you are going to listen for the so...
I’ll walk, but not in old heroic traces, And not in paths of high morality, And not among the half-distinguished faces, The clouded forms of long-past history. I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading: It vexes me to choose another guide: W...
There's a certain language, a dying language, and I can't remember who speaks it or where in the world they are, but in that language the future is referred to as being behind us. It must be behind us, since we can see the past. We walk backwards, bl...
'Maybe you out to go back there.' 'Can't. Gotta stay where... where I know what's what.' 'I Reckon that's what most of us think. But there's more strangers where you're from than in some sandland halfway around the world. And more strangers in your h...
As though she were asking me where some sort of unusual wine could be obtained, she inquired fretfully and worriedly: 'Jack, have you any idea where I could find some presentable loose women?' I had no idea where she could find anything else. At last...
To travel a circle is to journey over the same ground time and time again. To travel a circle wisely is to journey over the same ground for the first time. In this way, the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and the circle, a path to where you wish to b...
I mean I think that when you've got a big brain, when you find yourself planted in a world with a brain big enough to understand quite a lot of what you see around you, but not everything, you naturally fall to thinking about the deep mysteries. Wher...
who are you really? you are not a name or a height, or a weight or a gender you are not an age and you are not where you are from you are your favorite books and the songs stuck in your head you are your thoughts and what you eat for breakfast on Sat...
Louis: Where are we? Lestat: Where do you think, my idiot friend? We're in a nice, filthy cemetery. Does this make you happy? Is this fitting, proper enough? Louis: We belong in hell. Lestat: And what if there is no hell, or they don't want us there?...
