A Quote by Carl Froch

Closer to a fight, I can really feel my heartbeat in my chest. I can hear it beat through my mouth, this 'gunk, gunk, gunk' rhythm. — © Carl Froch
Closer to a fight, I can really feel my heartbeat in my chest. I can hear it beat through my mouth, this 'gunk, gunk, gunk' rhythm.
The more gunk I have on my face, the less free I feel.
The first thing we pulled out was a lump of white gunk. “Wax,” Carter pronounced. “Fascinating.
Hart is still like that little tub of vaguely milklike gunk that comes with airline coffee. It is labeled a "nondairy" product. Fine: we know what is is non, but what is it?
Emotions are there to enjoy life; but they are not used in self-reflection because they inhibit a proper reflection. They gunk us up.
I know a lot of Millennial women who don't listen to the program, anyway, when you mention my name - they've heard so much gunk and so many things that are not true - they say, "I never listen to that!" Say, "You've got to."
The Tea Party is clearing gunk out of the fuel lines of this country. It started with throwing out Democrats, but the Republicans are going to be next. We're doing what needs to be done for the sake of the country.
For me, Batman is the one that can most clearly be taken seriously. He's not from another planet, or filled with radioactive gunk. I mean, Superman is essentially a god, but Batman is more like Hercules: he's a human being, very flawed, and bridges the divide.
In my totally unscientific yet enthusiastic survey of Communal Experiments Throughout American History, I've discovered that the thing most likely to break up said experiments is: Sex, all that murky, dark, dirty gunk simmering beneath human relations.
Watch it...people who keep things inside them develop all sorts of disease...all that emotional gunk's got to find an outlet. Angry people develop cysts; stubborn people get arthritis; resentful people die of cancer.
Mircea must have heard us come in, but he continued what he was doing. He stood with his back to us, the candlelight on his bare skin causing his muscles to fall into sharp relief. He’d washed the river gunk out of his hair and now he threw it back, the water droplets shimmering in the light. The scene looked for all the world like a really good romance novel cover.
One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was thirteen was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - bare hands - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage bag and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon. Bare hands - a kind of mad courage.
One of the reasons I believe in jazz is that the oneness of man can come through the rhythm of your heart. It’s the same anyplace in the world, that heartbeat. It’s the first thing you hear when you’re born — or before you’re born — and it’s the last thing you hear.
'Hear My Heart' was constructed with the deaf in mind. I wanted a bass line that felt like a heartbeat. I wanted to be able to touch the speakers and feel a clear sense of rhythm.
Humor is like music. It's a rhythm, and you just kind of get the rhythm of it, and you have to know not to let the beat go too long, but to leave a beat in there for it to gel.
Their pain [the injurer's pain at having injured you] and your pain create the point and counterpoint for the rhythm of reconciliation. When the beat of their pain is a response to the beat of yours, they have become truthful in their feelings...they have moved a step closer to a truthful reunion.
I'm inspired by whatever I see, feel, hear about, watch on the TV...anything. It can be something that I really need to get off my chest so I write or something a friend is going through which gets my thoughts going.
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