A Quote by Billy Connolly

When I was 12, we went from Glasgow to Aberdeen on a school trip. It was called fresh air fortnight. — © Billy Connolly
When I was 12, we went from Glasgow to Aberdeen on a school trip. It was called fresh air fortnight.
I know that you don't believe it, but indeed, life will bring you through. You will live it down in time. What you need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!
I was born in Glasgow and brought up in a place in between Glasgow and Edinburgh called West Lothian!
...if you wish to get pure air into your room, or if you go for a walk in the fresh air, think of the pure and of the unclean heart. Many of us like to have pure air in the room (and this is an excellent habit), or are fond of walking in the fresh air, but they do not even think of the necessity of the purity of the spirit or heart (of, so to say, spiritual air, the breath of life); and, living in the fresh air, they allow themselves to indulge in impure thoughts, impure movements of the heart, and even impurity of language, and most impure carnal actions.
When I was 12, I was in Oliver! at a theater in Glasgow.
Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can keep the clubs and the fresh air.
I've been No. 12 my entire career. My cousin Nikki Haerling was a good basketball player, she wore No. 12 in high school and college, and my dad, he was No. 12 as well. I actually just started wearing it when I got to high school my freshman year.
I went to Glenalmond and got the piss taken out of me for my Glasgow accent. Then I spent five years at this very posh school, came out sounding like Prince Charles, which you have to do in order to survive, and then I got called Lord Fauntleroy for the first six months at art school.
I went to a military school between the ages of six and 12 and later into the air force. You learn discipline and strength of character.
I breathe deeply, taking in the fresh spring air. Though Beaufort has changed and I have changed, the air itself has not. It’s still the air of my childhood, the air of my seventeenth year, and when I finally exhale, I’m fifty-seven once more. But this is okay. I smile slightly, looking towards the sky, knowing there’s one thing I haven’t told you: I now believe, by the way, that miracles can happen.
Because forgiveness is like this: a room can be dank because you have closed the windows, you've closed the curtains. But the sun is shining outside, and the air is fresh outside. In order to get that fresh air, you have to get up and open the window and draw the curtains apart.
Fresh air is good if you do not take too much of it; most of the achievements and pleasures of life are in bad air.
I run because if I didn’t, I’d be sluggish and glum and spend too much time on the couch. I run to breathe the fresh air. I run to explore. I run to escape the ordinary. I run…to savor the trip along the way. Life becomes a little more vibrant, a little more intense. I like that.
I do actually have a connection with James Herriot because we went to school in the same area. I went to Hillhead Primary School in the West End of Glasgow and he went to Hillhead Secondary.
I came into the music world in 1988 with a song called 'Ooh La La,' that was like a breath of fresh air in Haitian music.
I came into the music world in 1988 with a song called Ooh La La, that was like a breath of fresh air in Haitian music.
Someone wrote in the New York Times recently that if Donald Trump was allowed to go through with his plans, he'd become one of history's major human rights violators and ethnic cleansers, just below the Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin league. But people don't care. Trump goes on Jimmy Fallon's show and that spineless puff of a talk show host praises Trump for being such an "off the cuff" talker and providing "fresh air." Fresh air! What's fresh about racism? it comes out of the darkest dankest rottenest human cellar!
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