A Quote by Adam Dunn

Hey, I'm serious here? Why do you have to ask me how many hits I have? — © Adam Dunn
Hey, I'm serious here? Why do you have to ask me how many hits I have?
Want know how I got these scars? My father was a drinker and a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not one bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, 'why so serious?' He comes at me with the knife. 'Why so serious?!'. He sticks the blade in my mouth. 'Let's put a smile on that face!' And why so serious?
When you face adversity . . . don't' ask: Why does this have to happen to me? Why do I have to suffer this, now? What have I done to cause this? Rather ask: What am I to do? What am I to learn from this experience? What am I to change? Whom am I to help? How can I remember my many blessings in times of trial?
I'm just saying, 'Hey, throw me a bone. How about a smile, cute t-shirt? Look at me.' Nothing - unless it's a turn to their friends to go, 'Hey, why is that weird guy looking at us?'
When I get home and people ask me,'Hey, Hoot, why do you do it, man? What are you? Some kind of war junkie? I won't say a goddamn word. Why? They won't understand. They won't understand why we do it. They won't understand that it's about the men next to you. And that's it. That's all it is.
I see children now, and many things surprise me: they ask me about my boots and why I don't dye my hair. I wonder, 'Why don't you talk to me about how to cross the ball, control it, the position of the body when I strike the ball?'
Do you know how many times a week people ask me why I'm yelling?
we wouldn't ask why a rose that grew from the concrete for having damaged petals, in turn, we would all celebrate its tenacity, we would all love its will to reach the sun, well, we are the roses, this is the concrete and these are my damaged petals, dont ask me why, thank god, and ask me how
How much do I love thee? Go ask the deep sea How many rare gems In its coral caves be; Or ask the broad billows, That ceaselessly roar, How many bright sands Do they kiss on the shore?
You cannot imagine how many people called, how many letters, how many emails. Every place I go, people ask me, 'Please, don't quit.'
Don’t ask me those questions! Don’t ask me what life means or how we know reality or why we have to suffer so much. Don’t talk about how nothing feels real, how everything is coated with gelatin and shining like oil in the sun. I don’t want to hear about the tiger in the corner or the Angel of Death or the phone calls from John the Baptist.
Hey, Volusian, you haven't been checking me out, have you?" He gave me his trademark bland stare. "I assure you, mistress, the only allure your bare flesh has for me is to remind me how easy it will be to slice open." I laughed. If not for the fact he was actually serious, he'd be so much fun.
There's only a couple stats that matter. No one cares how many blocked shots a guy has, how many hits.
I want young people to ask me if I'm serious. Our young people have been lied to and misled for so long. When I stand on this soapbox, I want young people to ask me that because once they know I'm serious, they'll be willing to ride with me.
If one really knew what one was doing, why do it? It seems to me if you had the answer why ask the question? The thing is there are so many questions.
There will always be economic pressure to make hits, identify hits, and then exploit hits. And you're going to exploit them with as many episodes as you probably can.
No matter how many people are screaming your name or how many Number One hits you have, you can still wake up and feel like a loser.
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