If you even dream of beating me you'd better wake up and apologize.
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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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Cold hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colours from our sight Red is grey, and yellow white But we decide which is right. And which is an illusion.
Pinprick holes in a colourless sky, Let incipient figures of light pass by, The mighty light of ten thousand suns, Challanges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some, a brief interlude, To others, the fear of solititude. Brave Helios, wake up your steeds, Bring us the warmth the countryside needs.
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It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. You'd wake up in a concert and think, Wow, how did I get here?
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It’s cold in the room, Mommy. It’s cold and all I have to wear is a yucky-green smock that matches the yucky-green walls. All the walls are cold, the metal table is cold, and the doctor’s fingers are cold as they hold my hand and tell me not to worry. But I’m worried, mommy. The doctors say that I might not wake up…they’re saying that I have a ninety percent chance of dieing, and I’m scared: I don’t want to go away, mommy; I don’t want to leave you behind. There’s a big clock on the wall, and it says it’s 3:15 in the afternoon. Ms. Loughlin just let class out for the day…Billy and Jeff are probably wrestling just outside the classroom, waiting for their daddies to pick them up so they can go home and eat dinner and do their homework and sleep. I wish I was there, mommy…I wish I was anywhere but here. I’m crying, mommy. I promised you I wouldn’t, but I’m crying and I can’t stop. The doctors are going to give me the medicine now to make me sleep so I don’t feel anything, so you won’t have to worry about me hurting anymore. But mommy, they said they had to take Teddy from me…they had to give him to you…mommy, please, hold him, hold him, and promise me, mommy, promise me if I don’t wake up you’ll keep him for me: he’s going to miss me a lot, and he’ll need someone to hug. And mommy… Goodbye, mommy.
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If we could sniff or swallow something that would, for five or six hours each day, abolish our solitude as individuals, atone us with our fellows in a glowing exaltation of affection and make life in all its aspects seem not only worth living, but divinely beautiful and significant, and if this heavenly, world-transfiguring drug were of such a kind that we could wake up next morning with a clear head and an undamaged constitution -- then, it seems to me, all our problems (and not merely the one small problem of discovering a novel pleasure) would be wholly solved and earth would become paradise.
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Weird, isn't it Somehow in the dead of winter when its 40 below, so cold your words just freeze in the air, you think you'll never hear a robin's song again or see a blossom on a cherry tree, when one day you wake up and bingo, light coming through the mini blinds is softened with a tick of rose and the cold morning air has lost its bite. It's spring once again, the streets are paved with mud and the hills are alive with the sound of mosquitos.
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If somebody has a bad heart, they can plug this jack in at night as they go to bed and it will monitor their heart throughout the night. And the next morning, when they wake up dead, there'll be a record.
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I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not on it, I get up.
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Confucious say: - fool man climb tree to get cherries; wise man spread limbs. - man who go to bed with sex problem wake up with solution in hand. - man who live in glass house should bathe in the basement. - man who screws near graveyard is fucking near dead. - man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day. - woman who cooks carrots and pees in same pot very unsanitary. - man who goes to bed with an itchy butt wakes up with a smelly finger
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I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
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You take the blue pill and you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland and see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
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You wake up in the morning, and your purse is magically filled with twenty-four hours of unmanufactured tissue of the universe of your life It is yours. It is the most precious of possessions. No one can take it from you. And no one receives either more or less than you receive.
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Ladies and gentlemen, history keeps repeating itself but doesn't teach us any lessons. 'Never again' has turned into 'again and again and again.' So tonight, ladies and gentlemen, take Hotel Rwanda as a wake-up call and a message to be our messenger that people are the ones who can change what they want to change.
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People who have realized that this is a dream imagine that it is easy to wake up, and are angry with those who continue sleeping, not considering that the whole world that environs them does not permit them to wake. Life proceeds as a series of optical illusions, artificial needs and imaginary sensations.
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I never really look for anything. What God throws my way comes. I wake up in the morning and whichever way God turns my feet, I go.
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Go and wake up your luck.
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Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody
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I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the Stern Fact, the Sad Self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.
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You wake up in the morning, and your purse is magically filled with twenty-four hours of un-manufactured tissue of the universe of your life! It is yours. It is the most precious of possessions. No one can take it from you. And no one receives either more or less than you receive.
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I have always felt that the moment when first you wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the 24 hours. No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that ... absolutely anything may happen. And the fact that it practically always doesn't , matters not one jot. The possibility is always there.
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The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.
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Life's like a ball game. You gotta take a swing at whatever comes along before you wake up and find out it's the ninth inning.
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I feel all these jitters when I wake up in the morning. Just energy jitters. When I'm having sex, I don't have that.
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Wake up with one mind, my friends, and kindle the fire, you many who share the same nest. Make your thoughts harmonious stretch them on the loom make a ship whose oars will carry us across.
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When I was a boy we didn't wake up with Vietnam and have Cyprus for lunch and the Congo for dinner.
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If we were to wake up some morning and find that everyone was the same race, creed and color, we would find some other cause for prejudice by noon.
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I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my beautiful garden, and I go, 'Remember how good this is. Because you can lose it.'
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He who go to bed with itchy butt, wake up with stinky finger.
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The supply of time is a daily miracle. You wake up in the morning and lo! Your purse is magnificently filled with 24 hours of the unmanufactured tissue of the universe of life. It is yours! The most precious of your possessions.
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