A Quote by Bob Dylan

How many a year has passed and gone and many gamble has been lost and won, and many a road taken by a friend and each one I've never seen again. — © Bob Dylan
How many a year has passed and gone and many gamble has been lost and won, and many a road taken by a friend and each one I've never seen again.
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?
I watch many, many, many independent films every year that you see once in a film festival and they're never heard of ever again. Many of them are very, very good.
He [Benny Carter] is all that every jazz musician the world over wants to be. He's performed 20,000 nights. How many shoes have been shined? How much mascara put on? Rouge? How many of those impossible bowties have been tied? How many love songs have been sung? How many dances have been danced? How many have passed to the sound of his music? It's been said that a man should not be forced to live up to his art. Benny Carter is one of the rare instances when we wonder whether the great art that a man has created can live up to him.
Driving down the wrong road and knowing it, The fork years behind, how many have thought To pull up on the shoulder and leave the car Empty, strike out across the fields; and how many Are still mazed among dock and thistle, Seeking the road they should have taken?
See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
The road Cordelia has travelled, the journey she has taken up to now has been such a joy to play as an actress, because there have been so many chances to do so many different emotions.
How often, you wonder, has the direction of your life been shaped by such misunderstandings? How many opportunities have you been denied--or, for that matter, awarded--because someone failed to see you properly? How many friends have you lost, how many have you gained, because they glimpsed some element of your personality that shone through for only an instant, and in circumstances you could never reproduce? An illusion of water shimmering at the far bend of a highway.
I've developed my passion for cars that drive themselves from being stuck in traffic for many, many, many hours of my life. I don't know what it adds up to, but I feel like I've lost a year or two just in traffic. That's big to me. That's a lot of time, a lot of money that I just lose on the road.
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.
If you own a toll road, you don't care how many passengers are in each car or what kind of car it is. You just want as many cars to move down the road as possible, and you make damn certain they pay their tolls, okay?
To be honest, I've never been interested in how many games I've done and seen. It doesn't mean anything to anybody. All I know is I'm eternally grateful for having been allowed to work so many games.
I've seen so many women in my family, so many mothers, that have lost children in the war in such absurd ways. I wonder how they do it. How do they keep living? How do they keep smiling?
Each quarter, Indian IT firms publish their results, and these are broadcast on CNBC. From the comfort of their boardrooms, executives say how many new employees have been added, how many more Fortune 500 companies have been signed up as clients, how many million-dollar companies were added, and so on.
If every year is a marble, how many marbles do you have left? How many sunrises, how many opportunities to rise to the full stature of your being?
There have been many poets who have lived at the fifth center of creativity and never gone ahead - many painters, many dancers, many singers who created great art, but never moved to the third eye. And there have been mystics who have remained with the third eye, knowing their own inner beauty; it is so fulfilling that they thought they had arrived. Somebody is needed to tell you that there is still something more ahead; otherwise, in your ignorance, what you will do is almost unpredictable.
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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