A Quote by Anna Quindlen
I only really understand myself, what I'm really thinking and feelings, when I've talked it over with my circle of female friends. When days go by without that connection, I feel like a radio playing in an empty room.
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When I'm naked, I really like to do push-ups. No. I think I really tackle it like everything else. If you're going to commit yourself to playing something, you have to be able to understand it. If you can understand it, then you can do it and go balls out with it. But, I've never been in a position where I've been like, "This doesn't feel right." I wouldn't do it, if it was that. I like the shock value of it. I think that, if you use it correctly, it's pretty effective, as long as I'm lit really, really, really well.
I liked to be in my own company, so when I came home from school, I'd just go up to my room and hang out by myself. I wouldn't really have friends over or go to see friends much.
I’ve never really talked about this, but I would go days without eating. Or maybe I’d have some fruit and then go to the gym for three hours. I knew I had a problem…It was a gradual process but I changed myself.
I've never really talked about this, but I would go days without eating. Or maybe I'd have some fruit and then go to the gym for three hours. I knew I had a problem... It was a gradual process but I changed myself.
As I go through all kinds of feelings and experiences in my journey through life -- delight, surprise, chagrin, dismay -- I hold this question as a guiding light: 'What do I really need right now to be happy?' What I come to over and over again is that only qualities as vast and deep as love, connection and kindness will really make me happy in any sort of enduring way.
I listen to music very intensely as well: When I listen to an artist I really love, I feel like I know them. I feel like I understand what they're thinking about, even though I've never met them or talked to them.
You can feel the drums, and you can feel the bass. So, being able to feel the music through the floor, it makes me feel like I'm a part of the band and not just the only person in the room who doesn't really understand what's going on.
There are so many kinds of different feelings - not good feelings - going on in the room, and he comes in with so much compassion. He's a straight talker and pulls them into what feels like a really positive action-struggle kind of feeling. Without seeing that, you might have all kinds of judgments or feelings about what might go on in a place like that. But it felt akin to a spiritual healing more than I could have possibly anticipated.
Everyone related to me in my circle was from church: church friends, church school, church activities. All my friends weren't allowed to watch MTV or go to PG-13 movies or listen to the radio, so I didn't really know anything different. That's how I was raised.
Hysteria is impossible without an audience. Panicking by yourself is the same as laughing alone in an empty room. You feel really silly.
I feel like I'm really young and I'm only thinking about my career and continuing playing.
Sometimes I'll just feel like wearing all black and being really chill, some days I like dressing boyish and then other days I wanna get really dressed up and be girlie. My wardrobe is all over the place.
I like my home to be somewhere where my friends can feel like they can put their feet up on the couch and for it to feel like really easy living. I really love to have my friends over, cook dinner for them, catch up, and spend quality time with quality people in my life.
Radio in my beginning days was going into a room for four hours, playing a bunch of music, and screaming about the artists... radio now has come out of the radio, on to the net, and on to video and on stages; it's a multiplatform thing. It's nothing I expected ever to see.
Even when I was calling myself the Microphones I only really ever played new songs... because I feel, like, a pretty strong connection to the song when I'm performing it.
He lay far across the room from her, on a winter island separated by an empty sea. She talked to him for what seemed a long while and she talked about this and she talked about that and it was only words, like the words he had heard once in a nursery at a friend's house, a two-year-old child building word patters, like jargon, making pretty sounds in the air.
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