A Quote by Barry Blitt

I do a lot of pivoting. There was one cover I did of Donald Trump, after he won Iowa, it seemed like it was over for him at the beginning of the primary process. I was given the go-ahead on it right away. I drew it and he won the next primary, and suddenly, the cover didn't make any sense. And then, after the Democratic National Convention, it seemed like he was finished, Hillary Clinton seemed to be gaining strength, so the cover ran then. So it seemed like you can come up with an idea and it can be rendered useless two days later and then all of a sudden it's relevant again.
My Mama Moved Among the Days My Mama moved among the days like a dreamwalker in a field; seemed like what she touched was here seemed like what touched her couldn't hold, she got us almost through the high grass then seemed like she turned around and ran right back in right back on in
Then to the victor go the spoils. You rise up by lifting, you know, each other up. You win. And so isn't this the time to be magnanimous like Donald Trump is and not to be, you know, predicting or projecting on to the press how they must cover him. They're going to cover him how they see fit.
I did five videos and we had to cover three black eyes. It seemed like the day before a video, I would get a black eye and we had to cover it.
After a while, though the grief did not go away from us, it grew quiet. What had seemed a storm wailing through the entire darkness seemed to come in at last and lie down.
It was like something you have dreaded and feared and dodged for years until it seemed like all your life, then despite everything it happened to you and all it was was just pain, all it did was hurt and so it was all over, all finished, all right.
I was afraid of last place, ... There were a lot of fears. Below .500 - I never thought I'd see that here. Then, losing 100 games seemed like a possibility, then 90 games. All of those things could have been a reality here. The grave seemed like a reality here, but the guys didn't let it happen.
I've been singing for a really long time and I love a lot of genres, but country just seemed like the best fit. The people in that genre are just so nice and welcoming. And that seemed so appealing. Also my voice fit it and seemed like the way to go.
I wondered if parents had an easier time with the secrets their children kept than children did with the secrets of their parents. A parent's secrets seemed like some sort of betrayal, where my own just seemed like a fact of life and growing up and away. I was supposed to be independent, but he was supposed to be available. Him having his own life seemed selfish, where me having my own was the right order of things.
She disapproved, but part of her seemed secretly to sympathize with the sickness. It was like she thought everybody had it, and the best you could do was to cover it up, and sometimes it would just come boiling out anyway. Then you had to point at it and condemn it, even though you knew you had it too.
It seemed like most of the memories faded before they had time to form. And after a while, my life with my father seemed like a familiar story or a distant dream.
Right after college, I participated in the Miss India contest and then went on to pursue modelling, as that seemed like the logical next step. But pretty soon, I started to feel stagnant in that profession.
I remember someone told me Donald Trump may not leave after the election. It seemed like a fictional, almost science-fiction idea.
It felt after the Bonds, after my four outings as James Bond, there seemed to be unfinished business. And the way that the Bond finished in my life and the demise of Bond going off stage left into the night, it seemed like there was a certain void there, as they say, of unfinished business.
In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.
One of Donald Trump's criticisms of President Barack Obama and of Hillary Clinton was that they seemed reluctant to use the words radical Islam. It was not just semantics. Trump said it's important to name the enemy idea and then attack it. Consider the Cold War. The U.S. and its allies waged a kind of propaganda war against the communist idea using radio broadcasts and other tools. Trump has said he'd do the same against Islamic extremism.
It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.
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