A Quote by Billy Crystal

I'd stand on a coffee table, and my cousin Edith would give me dimes, and you put the dimes on your head... And when your forehead was full, show was over. — © Billy Crystal
I'd stand on a coffee table, and my cousin Edith would give me dimes, and you put the dimes on your head... And when your forehead was full, show was over.
Now seeds are just dimes to the man in the store And the dimes are the things that he needs, And I've been to buy them in seasons before But have thought of them merely as seeds; But it flashed through my mind as I took them this time, "You purchased a miracle here for a dime."
The Edith Head Trio, I would say, would be even less of a musical career than playing the accordion, particularly because I played the accordion in The Edith Head Trio. I'm very impressed by your Googling. The Edith Head Trio and another band, Tzamboni, were two bands I was in after college that played at tiny clubs to little acclaim. Our Gypsy tango version of "When Doves Cry" was our biggest hit.But we were not destined for greatness.
Nickel for my thoughts, dimes in my bed. Quarters of the kush shape the lines in my head.
What helped me a lot is the fact that I have a very short neck. If I had a neck like a stack of dimes, you can bet I couldn't take a good shot. But the fact that I had a short neck and worked on it a lot (as opposed to most fighters who don't work on their neck muscles) definitely helped. I would stand on my head against a wall and move my head back and forth, side to side, for half an hour or so while talking on the phone.
Keep close count of your nickels and dimes, stay away from whiskey, and never concede a putt.
I might not be here if it wasn't for the research and the technology that March of Dimes provided for my family and me.
Gastronomy is the French Foreign Legion. You don't need any qualifications. Just walk through the door and keep your head down. Be respectful - "Yes chef!" - and you'll be given a trade. One day you'll be in a position where you can put a roof over your children's heads, you can put food on their table, create security for them.
I like to have straight-up black coffee, but when you get it, sometimes you'll burn your tongue, or it spills on your hands, and you get third degree burns. I happen to be the kind of human being who doesn't want to sue coffee companies for money, so I just say, 'Hey, can you give me some coffee, but can you also give me like, eight ice cubes.'
Watch the sunrise at least once a year, put a lot of marshmallows in your hot chocolate, lie on your back and look at the stars, never buy a coffee table you can't put your feet on, never pass up a chance to jump on a trampoline, don't overlook life's small joys while searching for the big ones.
The strangest thing is at tea breaks, or coffee breaks or lunch, you forget you're a zombie. And you're talking about politics to somebody at the table and you forget that you have a bullet hole in your forehead.
You want to know what it's like to be on a plane for 22 hours? Sit in a chair, squeeze your head as hard as you can, don't stop, then take a paper bag and put it over your mouth and nose and breath your own air over and over and over.
I want to be buried with a Zippo, a roll of dimes & a bottle of Jack!
But I don't begrudge anybody, because I know how hard it is to have that dream and to make it happen, whether or not it's just to put a roof over your head and food on the table.
When you sit in a café, with a lot of music in the background and a lot of projects in your head, you're not really drinking your coffee or your tea. You're drinking your projects, you're drinking your worries. You are not real, and the coffee is not real either. Your coffee can only reveal itself to you as a reality when you go back to your self and produce your true presence, freeing yourself from the past, the future, and from your worries. When you are real, the tea also becomes real and the encounter between you and the tea is real. This is genuine tea drinking.
I hit a home run in my first game, and they told me to go into the stands and pass my cap around. I made six dollars in nickels, dimes, and quarters.
The biggest lesson I learned in the bar business is to focus on revenues. Dollars, not dimes.
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