A Quote by Clay Walker

Baby, your nothing but too much trouble. Gotta bury this love and bury the shovel. — © Clay Walker
Baby, your nothing but too much trouble. Gotta bury this love and bury the shovel.
I once said, 'We will bury you,' and I got into trouble with it. Of course we will not bury you with a shovel. Your own working class will bury you.
Never bury something deep, baby. Takes twice as much courage to be who you are, say what you think, feel what you feel and let it show then it does to bury it.
Think of the fierce energy concentrated in an acorn! You bury it in the ground, and it explodes into an oak! Bury a sheep, and nothing happens but decay.
What do you do with your anger when the person you're mad at goes off and dies? Bury it? Bury it inside you?
I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse. I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea. You may bury my body in Sussex grass, You may bury my tongue at Champmedy. I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. Bury my heart at Wounded Knee
Bury you with Satan, to hell then I bury ya. I'm like Lucifer the unforgiven, cast out of heaven, I much rather rule in hell than be a servant. A hell on earth survivor means you better be a earner.
But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
When we bury our feelings, we also bury ourselves. It means we exist in a state of alienation. We rarely know it, but we are lonely for ourselves.
She's the sort of woman now,' said Mould, . . . 'one would almost feel disposed to bury for nothing: and do it neatly, too!
When you want something so bad it hurts,” he said quietly, “and you bury it, bury it so deep that you convince yourself it no longer matters . . . and someone tells you you can have it, it's terrifying. What if you take the chance and you're wrong? What if you let yourself feel the loss and it's this huge pain and you can't put it back in the box?
In peace sons bury fathers, but war violates the order of nature, and fathers bury sons.
We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don't.
Even if I wanted, I cannot do anything. When they die, we always send for their co-religionists. Muslims take the Muslim's body to bury it, Hindus come and take away the dead to be cremated and Christians come and bury their dead.
When I dig another out of trouble, the hole from which I lift him is the place where I bury my own.
Mr. Breschnev says we will bury you, I don't subscribe to that point of view. It seems like such an ignorant thing to do, if the Russians love their children, too.
War violates the natural order of things, in which children bury their parents; in war parents bury their children.
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