Children are never too tender to be whipped. Like tough beefsteaks, the more you beat them, the more tender they become.
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'In The Event of My Demise'
In the event of my Demise
when my heart can beat no more
I Hope I Die For A Principle
or A Belief that I had Lived 4
I will die Before My Time
Because I feel the shadow`s Depth
so much I wanted 2 accomplish
before I reached my Death
I have come 2 grips with the possibility
and wiped the last tear from My eyes
I Loved All who were Positive
In the event of my Demise
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It's just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I just beat people up.
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Goddamit! He beat me to it.
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Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, --where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
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Boxing is a lot of white men watching two black men beat each other up
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A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others.
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'Oh beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly, Play the Dead March as you carry me along;...
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When she was a small girl, Amanda hid a ticking clock in an old, rotten tree trunk. It drove woodpeckers crazy. Ignoring tasty bugs all around them, they just about beat their brains out trying to get at the clock. Years later, Amanda used the woodpecker experiment as a model for understanding capitalism, Communism, Christianity, and all other systems that traffic in future rewards rather than in present realities.
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As a little kid I had a girlfriend, and her boyfriend used to beat me up, so then I used to sing these songs, and that's what it's all about. Country music is all about your heart and your people and things like that.
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I graduated pretty quickly. When I was eleven or twelve a close friend of the family got lynched. I guess he was about forty years old, married, and we used to play with his kids. I remember the Saturday night a bunch of white men beat him to death at the Decatur fairgrounds because he sassed back a white woman. They just left him dead on the ground. Everyone in town knew it but never said a word in public. I went down and saw his bloody clothes. They left those clothes on a fence for about a year. Every Negro in town was supposed to get the message from those clothes and I can see those clothes now in my mind's eye.... But nothing was said in public. No sermons in church. No news. No protest. It was as though this man just dissolved except for the bloody clothes.... Just before I went into the Army I began wondering how long I could stand it. I used to watch the Saturday night sport of white men trying to run down a Negro with their car, or white gangs coming through town to beat up a Negro.
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Judge Smails It's easy to grin When your ship comes in And you've got the stock market beat. But the man worthwhile, Is the man who can smile, When his shorts are too tight in the seat.
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He who endeavors to serve, to benefit, and improve the world, is like a swimmer, who struggles against a rapid current, in a river lashed into angry waves by the winds. Often they roar over his head, often they beat him back and baffle him. Most men yield to the stress of the current... Only here and there the stout, strong heart and vigorous arms struggle on toward ultimate success.
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You don't win championships in September, obviously. You don't win them in Week 8. You don't win them with one game. This is going to be a tough deal for us to come back. Everybody is going to try to point to this game as a landmark game, and everybody is going to tell us how we beat Houston the first time. Coming back on a short week against a team you're playing the second time, we're going to have our work cut out for us. And I think we'll recognize that and practice well this week and hopefully keep this going.
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Natives who beat drums to drive off evil spirits are objects of scorn to smart Americans who blow horns to break up traffic jams.
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Science is the search for truth - it is not a game in which one tries to beat his opponent, to do harm to others. We need to have the spirit of science in international affairs, to make the conduct of international affairs the effort to find t he right solution, the just solution of international problems, not the effort by each nation to get the better of other nations, to do harm to them when it is possible.
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Will : You didn’t beat me; you ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fight, I’d killed you.
Jack : And that’s no incentive for me to fight fair, is it?
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A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.
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The drums of Africa still beat in my heart. They will not let me rest while there is a single Negro boy or girl without a chance to prove his worth.
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Hear our prayer O Lord ... for animals that are overworked, underfed, and cruelly treated; for all wistful creatures in captivity that beat their wings against bars; for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry; for all that must be put to death.... And for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words. Make us true friends of the animals and so to share the blessings of the merciful.
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If I were playing third base and my mother were rounding third with the run that was going to beat us, I'd trip her. Oh, I'd pick her up and brush her off and say, 'Sorry, Mom, but nobody beats me.'
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Suppose that humans happen to be so constructed that they desire the opportunity for freely undertaken productive work. Suppose that they want to be free from the meddling of technocrats and commissars, bankers and tycoons, mad bombers who engage in psychological tests of will with peasants defending their homes, behavioral scientists who can't tell a pigeon from a poet, or anyone else who tries to wish freedom and dignity out of existence or beat them into oblivion.
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The white youth of today have begun to react to the fact that the American Way of Life is a fossil of history. What do they care if their old baldheaded and crew-cut elders don't dig their caveman mops? They couldn't care less about the old, stiff-assed honkies who don't like their new dances: Frog, Monkey, Jerk, Swim, Watusi. All they know is that it feels good to swing to way-out body-rhythms instead of dragging across the dance floor like zombies to the dead beat of mind-smothered Mickey Mouse music.
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Dateline Mesopotamia, 3500 B.C. That's when the multi-faceted sounds we call music got its humble beginnings. It seems clappers were sent out the the fields to scare evil spirits away. These clappers started getting into the beat of their duty and, bingo, you got drums. From there, horns, strings, reeds, the whole orchestral gestalt. So, born in staving off death, music continues to nourish us in a variety of forms as different as the colors of the spectrum.
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There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
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The instinct of nearly all societies is to lock up anybody who is truly free. First, society begins by trying to beat you up. If this fails, they try to poison you. If this fails too, they finish by loading honors on your head.
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Most of the people who will walk behind me will be children so make the beat keep time with short steps.
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It's great to beat your goals -- and it's not that sports goals are bad, but this one was much better, ... This combines my two main passions in life, outside of my children.
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It finally seems to have dawned on some of the England players that, if they are to beat the likes of Brazil, Germany, Argentina and Italy in a World cup, they need an iron manager to forge them into a team, not a nice guy to massage their inflated egos. The gooey love affair between coaches and players is coming to its inevitable end. Does Eriksson have answers? There are times when you have to wonder if this vague, distant albeit charming figure is really all that interested in finding them.
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There are more pleasant things to do than beat up people.
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