And all the trips you know you missed And all the lips you never kissed Cut through you like a knife. And now you see stretched out before thee Just another story of a life.
I have a terrible, terrible fear of knives. I only buy food that I don't need to cut... I haven't cut my food in years! Like, I won't even touch a plastic knife or anything sharp. And if I'm in a kitchen and somebody picks up a knife, I leave.
When you're poor, an egg sandwich is dinner and you cut your potatoes with a butter knife.
I mostly eat peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and banana, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and potato chips, peanut butter and olives, and peanut butter and marshmallow goo. So sue me, I like peanut butter.
I had a very 'colorful' language, and every time I went to say something, Michael would cut me off with words like 'shoot' and 'fudge.' He didn't like curses. He didn't think it was necessary when other words would do.
The first time I kissed you, you had just cut off your hair with a plastic knife. You were in restraints and your lips were completely chapped and dry from the tranquilizers. The next day you tried to kill me with a torn-off piece of bedsheet. I've seen you at your worst. You hardly need to dress up for me.
Coaching the Bruins is like going bear hunting with a butter knife.
The icy cold will cut us like a knife in the darkAnd we may lose everything in the windBut the Northern Lights are burningAnd they're giving off sparks.
Lips move; lips touch; lips signal. Lips are on the outside for show, and on the most secret inside of your mouth. Lips frame words that lie. Lips frame a hole that wants to be filled.
I'm sorry, those pictures from the Abu Ghraib. At first, they, like infuriated me, I was sad. Then like, a couple days later, after they cut the guy's head off, they didn't seem like much. And now, I like to trade them with my friends.
I came from a real tough neighborhood. Once a guy pulled a knife on me. I knew he wasn't a professional, the knife had butter on it.
There was never any butter in our home. Just margarine. My parents acted like butter was lethal. I don't think I ever saw either one have a piece of butter. I would go over to friends' houses and down sticks of butter.
But a knife ain't just a thing, is it? It's a choice, it's something you do. A knife says yes or no, cut or not, die or don't. A knife takes a decision out of your hand and puts it in the world and it never goes back again.
Where I come from, we're more about efficiency,' he replies. 'A knife like this'll skewer food, smear butter, and slit throats all at the same time.
I love carrot cake - that's probably my favorite - and I'm obsessed with peanut butter. I eat anything with peanut butter - maybe not carrot cake with peanut butter - but, I think I got this from 'The Parent Trap': Oreos and peanut butter; I like that. And peanut butter and apples, peanut butter and chocolate.
It was always a relief when she came home to him. Like water or food. Like music or that moment when you cut yourself with a knife and squeeze the skin and no blood oozes out.