A Quote by Deb Caletti

This was what happened after you'd been together with someone a long time. You loved that it was old and worn and comfy, but sometimes it was old and worn and comfy. — © Deb Caletti
This was what happened after you'd been together with someone a long time. You loved that it was old and worn and comfy, but sometimes it was old and worn and comfy.
What I wear is a reflection of where I am going and how I am feeling. If I'm in a good mood, it's got to be cashmere and jeans - just something comfy, soft and warm. When I'm down, I might find something that I haven't worn for a while that was bought for me - or wear a brooch or a pair of shoes that are like old friends.
What I wear is a reflection of where I am going and how I am feeling. If Im in a good mood, its got to be cashmere and jeans - just something comfy, soft and warm. When Im down, I might find something that I havent worn for a while that was bought for me - or wear a brooch or a pair of shoes that are like old friends.
We all enjoy being comfy, but my comfy - you know, I love a nice, cozy cashmere sweater and spandex, sure.
I don't think I'm a style icon, not at all. Sometimes I just want to rock out in me scruffs and me Uggs. You know, a really comfy old tracksuit with maybe a dollop of ketchup down the front.
When I'm not dancing, I usually just like to keep it comfy. Even if I'm just going to dinner, I'll wear jeans or something, but if I'm not dancing, I usually just have a comfy outfit on.
Some other memories of the funeral have stuck in my mind. The old boy’s face, for instance, when he caught up with us for the last time, just outside the village. His eyes were streaming with tears, of exhaustion or distress, or both together. But because of the wrinkles they couldn’t flow down. They spread out, crisscrossed, and formed a smooth gloss on the old, worn face.
There is a lovely warmness about feelings of nostalgia as though in one's head one is putting on a pair of comfy old slippers and curling up in front of a fire.
How evanescent those loves and friendships seem at this distance in time…We move on, make new attachments. We grow old. But sometimes, we hanker for old friendships, the old loves. Sometimes I wish I was young again. Or that I could travel back in time and pick up the threads. Absent so long, I may have stopped loving you, friends; but I will never stop loving the Day I loved you.
I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long, like a worn-out recording of a favorite song.
Everyone likes a pair of comfy shoes. But is this an automatic right? Comfy shoes are clearly not allowed at the Oscars, for example. Why should criminals enjoy a treat that is denied to our favourite actresses? All prisoners, male and female, should be obliged to wear high heels. This would also make them easier to catch during riots.
Can man be so age-stricken that no faintest sunshine of his youth may re visit him once a year? It is impossible. The moss on our time-worn mansion brightens into beauty; and the good old pastor, who once dwelt here, renewed his prime and regained his boyhood in the genial breeze of his ninetieth spring. Alas for the worn and heavy soul, if, whether in youth or age, it has outlived its privilege of springtime sprightliness!
The mind as well as the body must be not only strong but well disciplined in order to act with promptness and vigor in new and untried situations. It is hard to turn men's minds from the old and deeply worn channels in which they have long been flowing.
I travel with my own long silk robe. At the hotel, you just never know if the robes have been washed after they've been worn by other people.
I now let go of worn out things, worn out conditions, and worn out relationships. Divine order is now established and maintained in me and in my world.
The soil of friendship is worn out with constant use. Habit may still attach us to each other, but we feel ourselves fettered by it. Old friends might be compared to old married people without the tie of children.
It is different for us mortals. We are the ones who become old and grey. We are the ones who become worn at the seams and disappear. But not our dreams. They can live on in other people even after we have gone.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!