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People think of the inventor as a screwball, but no one ever asks the inventor what he thinks of other people.
People would ask me why I was doing what I was doing - but I always told them that I just loved to skate. There was no other explanation.
There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why... I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?
My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.
Now, I think that I should have known that he was magic all along. I did know it - but I should have guessed that it would be too much to ask to grow old with and see our children grow up together. So now, he is a legend when he would have preferred to be a man.
Live your life like you're 80 looking back on your teenager years. You know if your dad calls you at eight in the morning and asks if you want to go out for breakfast. As a teenager you're like no, I want to sleep. But as an eighty year old looking back you have that breakfast with your dad. It just little things like that, that helped me when I was a teenager in terms of making choices you won't regret.
Which tent is your favourite?" he asks. "The Ice Garden," Celia answers, without even pausing to consider. "Why is that?" Marco asks. "Because of the way it feels," she says. "It's like walking into a dream. As though it is someplace else entirely and not simply another tent.
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, / The muttering retreats / Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels / And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: / Streets that follow like a tedious argument / Of insidious intent / To lead you to an overwhelming question.../ Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' / Let us go and make our visit"' 'I'm in love with you,' he said quietly.
She asks if I left a girlfriend behind when we moved. I say no, and she smiles, which just about ruins me.
When you were sleeping on the sofa I put my ear to your ear and listened to the echo of your dreams. That is the ocean I want to dive in, merge with the bright fish, plankton and pirate ships. I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you and ask them the questions I would ask you. Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke rising from a chimney? Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing? I don’t wish I was in your arms, I just wish I was peddling a bicycle toward your arms.
In Boston they ask, how much does he know? In New York, how much is he worth? In Philadelphia, who were his parents?
Why does it say she has three hundred and twenty friends?" Josh asks. "Who has that many friends?
I don't know exactly what it is, but it looks like interconnected websites where people show their photos and write about everything going on in their lives, like whether they found a parking spot or what they ate for breakfast." "But why?" Josh asks.
Instead of asking "what’s the problem?" ask "what's the creative opportunity?
The head nerd of the Cadets is my partner and when it's over he asks me for my number. I'm very flattered and he looks a bit crestfallen when I say no. "It's because they don't have coverage out here," Griggs tells him. "No," I say, looking up at Griggs. "It's actually because my heart belongs to someone else." And if I could bottle the look on his face, I'd keep it by my bedside for the rest of my life.
If you go to Atlanta, the first question people ask you is, "What's your business?" In Macon they ask, "Where do you go to church?" In Augusta they ask your grandmother's maiden name. But in Savannah the first question people ask you is "What would you like to drink?"
Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. “Are you hungry?”she asks. Am I ever.
We need to ask God for forgiveness and do all we can to correct whatever harm our actions may have caused. Repentance means a change of mind and heart—we stop doing things that are wrong, and we start doing things that are right. It brings us a fresh attitude toward God, oneself, and life in general.
We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.
Wooo!’ he said, slamming his shot glass down and coughing a bit. ‘That’s good stuff.’ I agreed heartily. ‘Shall we do another one?’ I asked. ‘Oh no,’ Jesus said quietly, his eyes growing round. ‘This is one of those situations where I have to stop and ask myself, what would I do?
So are you an inmate or a rubbernecker?" she asks. "Rubbernecker," I answer without hesitation. "You?" "I'm a screw. Or on staff, anyway. Used to be an inmate. Repeat offender. Crimes against my body. Puking sickness followed by heroin, which led to more puking sickness." I'd be surprised at her forthrightness, but that's addicts for you. The twelve steps crack 'em open and then they can't shut up.
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