A Quote by Dave Matthews

She thinks, "Hey,
How did I come to this?
I dream myself a thousand times around the world,
But I can't get out of this place" — © Dave Matthews
She thinks, "Hey, How did I come to this? I dream myself a thousand times around the world, But I can't get out of this place"
She thinks she knows everything that goes on inside me, and she doesn’t know a thing. What did she want from me – to tell the truth all the time? To run around saying it did matter to me that I live in a world where you can grow old and be alone and have to get down on your hands and knees and beg for friends? A place where people just sort of forget about you because you get a little old and your mind’s a bit senile or silly? Did she think that didn’t bother me underneath?
Kim and I have been friends for a long time. I've seen how things have played out behind the scenes. She's come a long way and she's a strong woman. The fact that she goes to Australia and twenty thousand people show up to a mall to see her is incredible. She's become an around the world phenomenon.
I had one job that was kind of cop-like. One summer I did security at a miniature golf course. Just standing out in the sun all day, Hey, hey, excuse me sir. Get your putter out of the whale's ass. Come on, this is a place of miniature business. This is not a playground even though it looks like a playground.
I didn't have the courage to let myself think or dream of acting because I come from Luxembourg - it's a very small country, and I think it's a place you need to get away from to see how big the world is and what's possible.
It was a dream, not a nightmare, a beautiful dream I could never imagine in a thousand nods. There was a girl next to me who wasn't beautiful until she smiled and I felt that smile come at me in heat waves following, soaking through my body and out my finger tips in shafts of color and I knew somewhere in the world, somewhere, that there was love for me.
Thus you can throw yourself flat on the ground, stretched out upon Mother Earth, with the certain conviction that you are one with her and she with you. You are as firmly established, as invulnerable as she, indeed a thousand times firmer and more invulnerable. As surely as she will engulf you tomorrow, so surely will she bring you forth anew to the new striving and suffering. And not merely "some day." Now, today, every day she is bringing you forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day she engulfs you a thousand times over.
She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation. In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?
I know one writer who has been subscribing authors without their permission and sending out what she thinks are helpful advice sheets, but they come off as if she's a know-it-all. She thinks she's marketing herself and her work. All she's really doing is turning readers off.
You can have your dream come true and be gay at the same time. This is not supposed to be a big deal. If the world thinks like that, one day it's gonna be a better place.
The world is wrong. You can't put the past behind you. It's buried in you; it's turned your flesh into its own cupboard. Not everything remembered is useful but it all comes from the world to be stored in you. Who did what to whom on which day? Who said that? She said what? What did he just do? Did she really say that? He said what? What did she do? Did I hear what I think I heard? Did that just come out of my mouth, his mouth, your mouth? Do you remember when you sighed?
My mom always does this thing where, the closer I get to home, the more she calls. 'Hey, listen, how's your plane? Did you land? Are you landing? Sweetie. Listen. We want to... ' The anxiety amps up exponentially as I get closer, and then I can't get out fast enough.
I have very vivid dreams, and often - this happens to me at least a few times a week - I don't know if something happened in real life or in a dream. I'm like, 'Mom, did this neighbor come over, or was it a dream?' And she's like, 'No, what are you talking about?'
When a man thinks about a woman he thinks about love, he never thinks about marriage. When a woman thinks about a man, she thinks about marriage. Love is secondary, security is first. She lives in a different kind of world - maybe in the future she may not, but in the past the only problem for the woman was how to be secure.
So yeah, anyway - I'm thirty-four and my mother is desperate for me to get married. She thinks settling down is what you should be doing at thirty-four. How would she like it if I turned to her the day she hits eighty and said: 'Hey, Mum - when are you going to break your hip? All your friends are breaking theirs'?
But because of his telling, many who did not believe have come to believe, and some who did not care have come to care. He tells the story, out of infinite pain, partly to honor the dead, but also to warn the living - to warn the living that it could happen again and that it must never happen again. Better than one heart be broken a thousand times in the retelling, he has decided, if it means that a thousand other hearts need not be broken at all. (vi)
The orphan in children's literature allows the child protagonist to move the story forward themselves. I think that, however happy a family, every intelligent child thinks: 'How did I come to be born to these parents?' - it is about finding your place in the world.
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