A Quote by Ashlyn Harris

How many times do you get to play in Portland in front of how many thousands of people? That's the kind of environment we want to be in. — © Ashlyn Harris
How many times do you get to play in Portland in front of how many thousands of people? That's the kind of environment we want to be in.
How many times have I failed before? How many times have I stood here like this, in front of my own image, in front of my own person, trying to convince him not to be scared, to go on, to get out of this rut? How many times before I finally convince myself, how many private, erasable deaths will I need to die, how may self-murders is it going to take, how many times will I have to destroy myself before I learn, before I understand?
I think if you don't like being in your skin, it doesn't matter how many times people say you're beautiful, how many jobs you get, or whatever it is - I just didn't want to be Adwoa.
I can't even count how many times I've been pulled over. I can't count how many times I've gone to a club and not got in, how many times a security guard has followed me round a shop. I can't count how many times that somebody has asked me if I'm a footballer because I've come out of a nice car.
There have been numerous times when my career was supposed to be over because of mathematics, you know, age and numbers,' he says. 'How many times can you go platinum? How many times can you rap about the same subject? How many times can you say, 'Oakland?'
Sorry, I said to myself, wondering how many times in my marriage I'd said that, how many times I'd meant it, how many times Claire had actually believed it, and, most important, how many times the utterance had any impact whatsoever on our dispute. What a lovely chart one could draw of this word Sorry.
You just want to play. You don't think about the money, how many followers you've got on Instagram. You just want to make it. You don't understand the demands, how intense it is at times - the scrutiny you're going to get.
It doesn't matter how many times you get knocked down. The only thing that matters is how many times you get up.
I hope my life is a testimony to show people no matter what you go through, how many hurdles are placed in front of you, how many bumps and bruises you get, to pick yourself up and be resilient and keep on trucking.
I don't think about how many times how many heroines have said 'I love you' to how many heroes on screen and that I am also doing the same. It is how differently I can say the same thing in my own style or how I can bring a new element into it.
It doesn't matter how many times you fail. It doesn't matter how many times you almost get it right. No-one is going to know or care about your failures, and neither should you. All you have to do is learn from them and those around you. All that matters in business is that you get it right once. Then everyone can tell you how lucky you are.
I was only interested in my scene, and I had to go through thousands and thousands of other scenes. I got my scene and I read it many, many, many, many, many times. That was my research.
It does not matter how many times you get knocked down, but how many times you get up.
I feel like I am an example. And I hope my life is a testimony to show people no matter what you go through, how many hurdles are placed in front of you, how many bumps and bruises you get, to pick yourself up and be resilient and keep on trucking.
Evolution is far more than a belief or an educated guess about how people came to be as they are. It is, in fact, the product of converging evidence from many, many different fields of science. Many, many thousands of studies that, in fact, have provided a theory, an organizing principal in fact, that describes how humans came to be.
How many pizzas are consumed each year in the United States? How many words have you spoken in your life? How many different peoples names appear in the New York Times each year? How many watermelons would fit inside the U.S. Capital building? What is the volume of all the human blood in the world?
It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him. “Is there gold hidden in the village?” she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. “Is there silver? Gems?” She stabbed twice more. “Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?” She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. “Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? is there gold in the village?
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