So if I asked you about art you could give me the skinny on every art book ever written...Michelangelo? You know a lot about him I bet. Life's work, criticisms, political aspirations. But you couldn't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. And if I asked you about women I'm sure you could give me a syllabus of your personal favorites, and maybe you've been laid a few times too. But you couldn't tell me how it feels to wake up next to a woman and be truly happy. If I asked you about war you could refer me to a bevy of fictional and non-fictional material, but you've never been in one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him draw his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I asked you about love I'd get a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been truly vulnerable. Known that someone could kill you with a look. That someone could rescue you from grief. That God had put an angel on Earth just for you. And you wouldn't know how it felt to be her angel. To have the love be there for her forever. Through anything, through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand and not leaving because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term 'visiting hours' didn't apply to you. And you wouldn't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you lose something you love more than yourself, and you've never dared to love anything that much. I look at you and I don't see an intelligent confident man, I don't see a peer, and I don't see my equal. I see a boy. Nobody could possibly understand you, right Will? Yet you presume to know so much about me because of a painting you saw. You must know everything about me. You're an orphan, right? Do you think I would presume to know the first thing about who you are because I read 'Oliver Twist?' And I don't buy the argument that you don't want to be here, because I think you like all the attention you're getting. Personally, I don't care. There's nothing you can tell me that I can't read somewhere else. Unless we talk about your life. But you won't do that. Maybe you're afraid of what you might say.
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Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse,...
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Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear--not absence of fear. Except a creature be part coward, it is not a compliment to say it is brave; it is merely a loose misapplication of the word. Consider the flea!--incomparably the bravest of all the creatures of God, if ignorance of fear were courage. Whether you are asleep or awake he will attack you, caring nothing for the fact that in bulk and strength you are to him as are the massed armies of the earth to a sucking child; he lives both day and night and all days and nights in the very lap of peril and the immediate presence of death, and yet is no more afraid than is the man who walks the streets of a city that was threatened by an earthquake ten centuries before. When we speak of Clive, Nelson, and Putnam as men who didn't know what fear was, we ought always to add the flea--and put him at the head of the procession.
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Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
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Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May but at length the season of summer does come.
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Happiness is like a cat, If you try to coax it or call it, it will avoid you; it will never come. But if you pay not attention to it and go about your business, you'll find it rubbing against your legs and jumping into your lap.
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I think for Chris to get within 0.6 of a second of pole is a great achievement, given what we have gone through this weekend so far. His position doesn't quite reflect what might have been as he had to deal with traffic on his fastest lap. Unfortunately, in race trim the gap between us and the faster runners - in terms of consistency - will be greater than it was in qualifying. This is down to a number of reasons that the team can't fix here at the track.
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You make a toast for tomorrow and smash the cup, letting your false women lap the dish I had to fatten up.
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Our lives are not in the lap of the gods, but in the lap of our cooks.
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Let reverence for the laws, be breathed by every American mother, to the lisping babe, that prattles on her lap -- let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges; let it be written in Primers, spelling books, and in Almanacs; -- let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice. And, in short, let it become the political religion of the nation; and let the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the grave and the gay, of all sexes and tongues, and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars.
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What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whore's lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte -- there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of.
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Luke 6:38:
'Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.'
(NIV)
Give, and [gifts] will be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, will they pour into [the pouch formed by] the bosom [of your robe and used as a bag]. For with the measure you deal out [with the measure you use when you confer benefits on others], it will be measured back to you.
(AMP)
Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.
(KJV)
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When your cat has fallen asleep on your lap and looks utterly content and adorable, you will suddenly have to go to the bathroom.
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Let reverence for the laws be breathed by every American mother to the lisping babe that prattles on her lap. Let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges. Let it be written in primers, spelling books, and in almanacs. Let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and enforced in the courts of justice. And, in short, let it become the political religion of the nation.
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If a dog jumps in your lap, it is because he is fond of you; but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer.
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If a dog jumps in your lap, it is because he is fond of you but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer.
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Here take this. Your lucky SCRUNCHIE? Yeah...it helped me pass spanish!! Thats because you gave Professer Montoya a lap dance after the final! yeah...LUCKILY!'
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How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! how glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.
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Women want certain things in marriage--the right to a title and a front seat in the lap of luxury.
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To be thrown upon one's own resources, is to be cast into the very lap of fortune; for our faculties then undergo a development and display an energy of which they were previously unsusceptible
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The best holistic remedy for high blood pressure is a purring cat on your lap.
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She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
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If I could be a lovely chap Life would fall into my lap And all my words would sound so nice You'd want to hear me say them twice. But what I want to say to you Is only what I think is true And so, alas, I'll always be A rather unattractive me.
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I call it the BlackBerry prayer. You know, your head is bowed and your hands are in your lap.
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A rich child often sits in a poor mothers lap.
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Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?
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The lap was absolutely perfect. Down in Turns 3 and 4 is where I got all my speed. I just got right back to the gas earlier than I ever have. When you have a perfect car, it's easy to drive a fast lap.
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If I were a tear in your eye, I'd roll down your cheek & die in your lap and if you were a tear in my eye, I'd never cry for the fear of losing you.
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Lap-dogs and blood-hounds enjoy the greatest respect at court; house-dogs and no dogs at all are not even considered.
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Few things are more delightful then grandchildren fighting over your lap
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