A Quote by Bobby Lashley

One of my first overseas trips with WWE was to France. I walked out of our hotel, and I see a little kid walking toward me with his mom. He gets a couple of steps past me and he stops in his tracks. I see his mom do a little bit of a double-take, then he runs over and just grabs on and starts hugging my leg as hard as he can, then he starts crying.
I remember I used to go to The Laugh Factory and just goof off onstage, and then I'd see Dane Cook. He did a bit about his Mom making the bed in the summertime when he was a kid. He just said "Vroom!" and threw the sheet up in the air and the sheet would just stay over the bed for like a minute and a half. All he had were his arms out, but I could see the sheet. And he didn't do anything. He just kept it there. And I went, "I have to write more."
I try to think of a way to get there without going past it. There are lots of ways, but they all have me walking a little farther. And that's stupid, I decide. What am I, a little kid? I can stand to see something it hurts to want. I can see it and then just keep walking. It happens to lots of people everyday. We all survive.
Even before I got to WWE, I studied Triple H. He was one of my favorite superstars; his wrestling was ruthless, and I think a lot of his style you can see in me a little bit.
He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?
My son was staying with me, and we got up to watch it, just before they announced supporting actress, he came up and put his arm around me. I think it was like, 'Either way, mom, I still love you.' But then it was funny because I saw it. I saw my picture, and I heard them announce it, but I had to ask him, 'Did I really see that?' I wasn't sure I was seeing it, but he assured me that yes, I was nominated for the Academy Award. We just sort of cried a little bit.
I leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes widened, then his lips parted and he kissed me back, mouth warm and firm against mine and that floating feeling washed over me and through me, and it was so amazing that when it ended, I just stayed there, my face so close to his I could feel his breath, see those incredible amber eyes, and that was all I could see, all I wanted to see.
For me [being a kid actor], it's a bit like when you see your mom's friends, and they're like, "I remember when you were this big. You'll always be that cute little kid to me." It's like that times a thousand. Well, times a couple thousand.
He pauses when he finishes undoing the last button, then closes his eyes. I can see the pain slashed across his face, and the sight tears at me. The Republic's most wanted criminal is just a boy, sitting before me, suddenly vulnerable, laying all his weaknesses out for me to see.
It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me." Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging his head. "No. I don't want to. . ." I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.
Maybe you are homophobic a little bit, but then you see me, and you've always loved me, and you love the way I play, and your kids love me. And then you're like, 'Oh, that's OK. It's fine.' Once it gets a little bit more personal, it helps break down those barriers.
She stares at me for a moment, and then she bursts out laughing. “You haven’t seen his perfect little wife and his perfect little girls. Believe me, Oliver, I’m not the great love of his life, the one he’ll never forget.” “You are to me,” I say.
When I was a child, I would draw these little stick-figures, and my mom would put them up all over the loft and tell me how wonderful they were. Then you get out there into the harsh reality of the world, and you realize not everybody loves every little thing you do the way your mom did.
We were sitting there on the couch together, and he pushed himself up to go but then fell back down onto the couch and sneaked a kiss onto my cheek. “Augustus!” I said. “Friendly,” he said. He pushed himself up again and really stood this time, then took two steps over to my mom and said, “Always a pleasure to see you,” and my mom opened her arms to hug him, whereupon Augustus leaned in and kissed my mom on the cheek. He turned back to me. “See?” he asked.
There is always a fear that i’ll be in Europe somewhere, and this little blue-eyed kid would come over to me with his mom and go, “dada, dada”.
For once, his vampire expression failed him. His response was right there on his face, in full view and easily read. He went from surprise to disbelief then hope and sheer, utter joy all within a split second of each other, then he let loose a huge whoop of delight and swept me into his arms, hugging me fiercely.
Kevin Lee is really tough. He has some flaws in his game that we can work with. I think he mixes up his boxing and his wrestling really well. He takes you down, he unleashes some strong ground and pound. However, he usually starts a round strong and then starts to fade. In five rounds, I think I can take an advantage of that.
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