A Quote by Roger Zelazny

It is a pain in the ass waiting around for someone to try to kill you. — © Roger Zelazny
It is a pain in the ass waiting around for someone to try to kill you.
Some [actors] are really a pain in the ass today. I held out on getting an assistant forever because I didn't want to seem demanding... or like a pain in the ass. I didn't want someone working for me to hate me.
How did we kill time before smartphones? I honestly can't recall. I have a vague recollection of flipping through magazines in waiting-room-type situations, but what did we do, say, in line at the post office? Waiting for a bus? Waiting for someone to meet us at a restaurant? I mean, did we just look around or something?
Joan of Arc should be played as a "pain in the ass" and how do I know she was a "pain in the ass"? ... because they burn her at the end.
The Wright Amendment is a pain in the ass, but not every pain in the ass is a constitutional infringement.
If someone has gone through a lot of emotional pain, including the loss of loved ones, that person may try to build a shell around his or her feelings to protect him- or herself from the pain.
You can say "ass," but you can't say "asshole." That's why I always cringe when a character in a TV show refers to someone as an "ass." Unless you're British, calling someone an ass really doesn't work. But those are the rules of television. You can be a dirtbag, but not a scumbag.
She was afraid, but she couldn't just sit around waiting for someone to save her. She had to try to save herself, try to figure it out.
Home is where your ass is and if you want to move you move your ass the first step is learning to change homes with someone else and have someone else's ass.
People are too afraid of uptown. A lot of people will tell you, like, "Don't go to Harlem. You can never go there. 'Cause as soon as you get there, they kill you." That's what people think. As soon as you arrive in Harlem, someone just stabs you in the face right away. That's people's image of Harlem: just everyone standing around waiting for lost white people to kill all day. "Did you see any? I didn't either."
Try not to be alone with your own pain. Try to find someone you can trust your pain with.
Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. Or waiting around for Friday night or waiting perhaps for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting.
The idea of let's all share the pain equally, or let's freeze salaries altogether - it's ass-backwards. It's absolutely ass-backwards.
Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friends, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you.
You kill people you hate or you kill in rage or you kill to get even, but you don't kill someone you're indifferent to.
The soldiers kill suicide bombers. Think about that. When a guys whole thing in life is to kill himself and you get there first... you are halling ass my friends.
There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echos.
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