A Quote by Bootsy Collins

Skid marks all across my brain, cause you're leaving me with so much pain. I was pretty sure that you could be the one, now it is evident that it was hit and run. — © Bootsy Collins
Skid marks all across my brain, cause you're leaving me with so much pain. I was pretty sure that you could be the one, now it is evident that it was hit and run.
I walk into a large white room. It's a dance studio in midtown Manhattan. The room is clean, virtually spotless if you don’t count the thousands of skid marks and footprints left there by dancers rehearsing. Other than the mirrors, the boom box, the skid marks, and me, the room is empty.
Stress does not cause pain, but it can exacerbate it and make it worse. Much of chronic pain is 'remembered' pain. It's the constant firing of brain cells leading to a memory of pain that lasts, even though the bodily symptoms causing the pain are no longer there. The pain is residing because of the neurological connections in the brain itself.
I used to be a pretty good hit-and-run man when I played in the minors. I handled the bat well and could hit the ball to the right side of the infield. Nevertheless, I know that you often give the opposition an out on the hit-and-run play.
I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would: Drop everything now, meet me in the pourin' rain, Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain; Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile Hit me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down, Give me somethin' that'll haunt me when you're not around; Cause I see sparks fly whenever you . . . smile.
Back in the '80s and '90s, you could hit the quarterback low, you could hit the quarterback high. You could hit him pretty much late.
I'm pretty sure that every player who's ever played for me doesn't hate me. Now, we'd have to do a survey, but I've coached a lot of guys, and I'm pretty sure there's one or two that don't hate me. I don't know that any liked me. But I'm pretty sure there's one or two who don't hate me.
You can never hit someone to the body and cause them to go unconscious. To be hit in the body is an unconscious experience that one has to endure. Signals of pain shoot instantly from you liver to your brain telling you how uncomfortable it is to be in that situation. Then it's up to you to find out if you can stand up or not.
Formula One does very well. It is a very interesting asset. Could it be run in a different way? Sure it could be. Could it be improved? I'm sure it could. But all I can say is, it seems to do pretty well.
"You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me." "I was ninety percent sure." "I see," Clary said. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hands on his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?" "The other ten percent."
It was always important to me to make sure Pooh came across as much more than a bear of very little brain. There is an innate wisdom there somewhere.
My high threshold for pain will allow me to battle through pretty much anything if I find a way to run and slide.
I think people hate me pretty much across the board, which is nice. I mean, it's a pretty evenhanded loathing among a certain amount of the critical population, which used to be about 80 percent. So now I've gotten to the point where I just don't worry about it that much. It used to be very upsetting, now it's only mildly upsetting.
Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way; I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.
My heart is drawn to the small, out-of-the-way things that I can't help but to give my focus and attention and care, 'cause they shut off what hijacks my brain and help to tune out what can cause me pain.
Liberals dispute that Reagan won the Cold War on the basis of their capacity to put mocking quotation marks around the word, won. That's pretty much the full argument: Restate a factual proposition with sneering quote marks.
Yeah, it’s me, but I like to think I looked better when we met. ‘Cause right now, I’m pretty much hogging all the ugly. (Nick)
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