How many truths pass wrecking through the Illusion of Life, but none of them is an absolute truth therefore the real truth!
I'm kind of in between organized and messy, so if I have the right things to keep me organized, it's easier for me to stay that way. If I don't have the right tools, I'm a train wreck.
You'll spend every Saturday night on the bathroom floor with no recollection of the night before You're a train wreck and everything that's in between Being alone doesn't seem so bad to me
There's a lid for every pot. If you don't get out much, they'll have a wreck in yard. NOTHING will keep your soulmate from you. You have EVERY hope for love.
It seems to me that in our lifetime we have passed from the wreck of liberal humanism to the beginning of a new recognition of dogma: isn't it rather tremendous?
The dump was kind of like a department store for Ray, but even more like a holy cementery where he could organize abandoned dreams and wrecked things into families, in a way, that stayed together.
The times in my life when I've been my thinnest, I've been a walking psycho wreck. Forget the fact that I was basically starving myself; skinny was usually due to some kind of loss. Death. Rejection. Divorce.
Somebody who has been in a very bad wreck is going to be very conscientious about not speeding through a yellow light... You just learn so many good lessons when you go through a failed marriage.
We're busily wrecking the chances for future generations at a rapid rate of knots by not recognizing the damage we're doing to the natural environment, bearing in mind that this is the only planet that we know has any life on it.
I get a little upset, yeah, if a year goes by and I don't get a script. Thank God I have other interests that keep me from becoming a nervous wreck.
The floor of Christendom and elsewhere is littered with wrecks made by old prophets. God won't stand nonsense from any man. Every man has to choose between Christ and Barabbas, and every Christian between God and some old prophet.
I have never written a play, a story, a poem, or my one film - anything - unless something was troubling me enough, wrecking me, in fact, to drive me back into the absurdity of writing. I do not enjoy writing.
You know, we have a fiscal train wreck before us. And unless we act, and act deliberately, we're not going to enable our kids to have what we have. It's plain and simple as that.
Businesses that have gone through an episode of hyperinflation become understandably alert to the threat of it: at the first hint of inflation, they're likely to increase prices, since they've learned that if they don't, and inflation hits, their bus...
Occasionally, I hanker for the time when I sold more records, but I don't sit and drool about it. When I do look at early footage of Talking Heads, I realise I was just a wreck.
One time I semi-wrecked my uncle's truck. He told me to back it up into a ditch, but my foot slipped and I gunned it a little too much. But now I use one foot, and I do not run into stuff - at least I try not to.
Caitlin Bree: ''Wreck'' is a harsh term. Dante Hicks: ''Disturbed'' is more like it. ''Mildly disturbed,'' even. Caitlin Bree: Oh, l love a macho facade. lt is such a turn-on.
[stumbles out of wrecked truck] The Joker: [to Batman] Come on, I want you to do it, I want you to do it. Come on, hit me. *Hit me!*
[Bane wrecks the CIA plane and grabs Dr Pavel] Bane: Calm down, Doctor! Now's not the time for fear. That comes later.
Sloane: What could happen to it? It's in a garage. Cameron: It could get wrecked, stolen, scratched, breathed on wrong... a pigeon could shit on it! Who knows?
[surveying a wrecked apartment building corridor having climbed over thirty flights of stairs with his proton pack] Dr. Egon Spengler: [casually] Art Deco, very nice.
