A Quote by David Coverdale

Someone once asked me, `How does Jimmy Page strike you?' I replied, `With both hands, of course...' — © David Coverdale
Someone once asked me, `How does Jimmy Page strike you?' I replied, `With both hands, of course...'
Kero and Rollo stood over it, slick with blood, both holding knives. ‘Kero, you came? Why?’ asked Naif. ‘Maybe I just needed someone to show me how to be brave enough,’ he replied with a hint of a dangerous grin.
Someone once asked me, 'How long does it take to do your hair.' I said, 'I don't know, I'm never there.'
Once we were driving in the midwest and we pulled into a McDonald's. Someone came up to me and asked me why I have Feynman diagrams all over my van. I replied, "Because I am Feynman!" The young man went, "Ahhhhh!"
I remember, in elementary school, being asked what my father does and not knowing how to answer. When I asked my mom what I should say next time, she replied, "Just say he's self-employed." I love that.
A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: 'Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?' We must always consider the person.
Dante would not have forgotten: they say that when Dante was a boy, he was asked: Dante what is the best food? to test his memory. Eggs, replied Dante. Years later, when Dante was a grown man, he was asked only: how? and Dante replied: fried.
Somebody once asked me what had attracted me to National Socialism. I replied without a shadow of hesitation: 'Its beauty.'
But what does he do to qualify as a sonovabitch?” Jenny asked. “Make me”, I replied. “Beg pardon?” “Make me”, I repeated. Her eyes widened like saucers. “You mean like incest?” she asked. “Don’t give me your family problems, Jen. I have enough of my own.” “Like what, Oliver?” she asked, “like just what is it he makes you do?” “The ‘right things’”, I said. “What’s wrong with the ‘right things’?” she asked, delighting in the apparent paradox.
When you are writing a spoken word poem, the tools you're working with are your voice, your body, how it's going to sound to someone when you're saying it out loud. Which is different from when you're writing it on the page. That toolbox becomes how does this look visually on the page, how does this read among pages, how is this in relation to poems that are before it or after it. I don't think one is better or more successful than the other. You've just gotta think about "what are the tools I'm using, and how are they most effective in this form?"
Ready?" Tove asked without looking at me. He started walking before I answered. "Duncan, you don't need to come with us," I told him as I hurried after Tove. Duncan followed me the way he always did, but he slowed. "It's probably best if he does," Tove said, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Why?" I asked, but Duncan smiled, excited to be included. "We need someone to test on," Tove replied matter-of-factly, and Duncan's smile instantly faded.
Mo Willems was so helpful. I had met him a number of times, and I knew from his books how funny he was, of course, but it was really neat to be able to have his feedback. He's so great with comic timing. Working with him was like taking a master class in comic timing, because he could pinpoint right away if a section wasn't working. I remember him saying once, "No, you need a beat between this page and this page," and it was like, oh yeah, of course. I hadn't seen it, but being so good at what he does, Mo noticed it right away.
The late philosopher Morris R. Cohen of CCNY was asked by a student in the metaphysics course, Professor Cohen, how do I know that I exist? The keen old prof replied, And who is asking?
How does it feel, anyway?" How does what feel?" When you take one of those books?" At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wants an answer, he'd have to come back, and he did. "Well?" he asked, but again, it was the boy who replied, before Liesel could even open her mouth. It feels good, doesn't it? To steal something back.
What's easy to forget once you're minorly famous is how nerve-racking it is to walk up to someone famous and interrupt them. When I'm taking a picture with a fan, it's not uncommon for their hands to be shaking or for me to feel their heart pounding through their rib cage. But the best part is how easy it is for me to make someone's day.
Someone once asked me how the universe was created, I told him it all began with Pablo Honey
Someone once asked me what was the weirdest question I was ever asked. And I was stymied.
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