A Quote by Darynda Jones

I could be irksome when I put my left ventricle into it. — © Darynda Jones
I could be irksome when I put my left ventricle into it.

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On the subject of the feminist business, I just never think...of qualities which are specifically feminine or masculine. I suppose I divide people into two classes: the Irksome and the Non-Irksome without regard to sex. Yes and there are the Medium Irksome and the Rare Irksome.
To be 26 years old and lose your left heart ventricle was probably the most dramatic thing that's ever happened to me in my life...
You could put all the talent I had into your left eye and still not suffer from impaired vision.
All the working-class people could feel a Malcolm X. They could hear Malcolm X, and two weeks later they could whisper back what he said. Verbatim. They could remember the way he put it, and he put it so well.
I was almost persuaded to be a Christian. I thought I never again could be thoughtless and worldly. But I soon forgot my morning prayer or else it was irksome to me. One by one my old habits returned and I cared less for religion than ever.
All boxers are OCD. You can see a bit of OCD in me before I go into the ring. I can't put on my right boot before my left. It's the same with my gloves. It's got to always be the left foot and the left hand first. I would freak out if I did it differently. I have to do the left first because that's the way I done it when I won the Olympics.
My shoes were on Oprah but they ran out of time so I wasn't on. I left my shoes in Chicago so they could put them on the show.
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back anymore. The gates were closed, the sun was down, and there was no beauty left but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of youth, of illusion, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.
We don't know what's happened out there since they put us in here, or how many generations have lived and died since they did.We could be the last people left.
Labor in loneliness is irksome.
In the middle of this it was good to have some moments in which whatever was left of you could sit in silence. When you could remember. When the evidence that had gathered could be sorted. And it was a difficulty if another person imagined these moments were their property. Your life got sliced from two sides like a supermarket salami until there was nothing left in the middle. You were the bits that had been given away right and left to others. Because they wanted the piece of you that belonged to them. Because they wanted more. Because they wanted passion. And you did not have it.
I lay in the bed at the hospital and said, 'let's see what I have left.' And I could see, I could speak, I could think, I could read. I simply tabulated my blessings, and that gave me a start.
As the organized Left gained cultural power, it turned into a monster that found perpetual victimhood, combined with thought and speech control, the most efficient way to hold on to that power. Suddenly it was the Left, the protector of liberty, that was setting rules about what could and could not be said or even thought.
All delay is irksome, but it teaches us wisdom.
If Bono left, we could carry on. If I left, we'd be screwed.
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