A Quote by Huey Lewis

I want a new drug, one that won't make me sick. One that won't make me crash my car, or make my head three feet thick. — © Huey Lewis
I want a new drug, one that won't make me sick. One that won't make me crash my car, or make my head three feet thick.
The public is composed of numerous groups whose cry to us writers is: 'Comfort me.' 'Amuse me.' 'Touch my sympathies.' 'Make me sad.' 'Make me dream.' 'Make me laugh.' 'Make me shiver.' 'Make me weep.' 'Make me think.'
Men They hail you as their morning star Because you are the way you are. If you return the sentiment, They'll try to make you different; And once they have you, safe and sound, They want to change you all around. Your moods and ways they put a curse on; They'd make of you another person. They cannot let you go your gait; They influence and educate. They'd alter all that they admired. They make me sick, they make me tired.
God, make me a man with thick skin and a soft heart. Make me a man who is tough and tender. Make me tough so I can handle life. Make me tender so I can love people. God, make me a man.
I'm inspired by my own children, how full they make my heart. They make me want to work to make the world a little bit better. And they make me want to be a better man.
If I want to make - I don't know - strawberry jam, I'm going to have to add something to strawberries to make it gelatinous and thick, right? I'm going to have to add pectin or something like that.But if I want to make cranberry sauce, all I have to do is pop some cranberries in a little saucepan and when it cools off, it'll be thick and gelatinous. So what's up with cranberries?
I have a luck cat in my arms, it spins threads of luck. Luck cat, luck cat, make for me three things: make for me a golden ring, to tell me that I am lucky; make for me a mirror to tell me that I am beautiful; make for me a fan to waft away my cumbersome thoughts. Luck cat, luck cat, spin for me some news of my future!
I have a possessive female spirit. I was also told I have a demonic attachment. They make me sick. They make me agitated.
In 1964, when Lee Iacocca said, 'Shelby, I want you to make a sports car out of the Mustang,' the first thing I said was, 'Lee, you can't make a race horse out of a mule. I don't want to do it.' He said, 'I didn't ask you to make it; you work for me.'
The way the music comes to you starts to affect how you listen to music. When you're a kid, it's 'Does it rock? Does it make me feel good? Does it make me tap my feet? Does it make me go to sleep?'
I think a lot of people go into filmmaking thinking, "How can I make a career?" And so when they make their first film, they make it thinking, "Well, this'll be the one that gets me to the place where I can make the second film the way I want to make it, and that'll get me to the place where I can make $100 million on the third film." And I thought, "Well, if I put sustainability at the bottom of my priority list, then what opportunities is that going to free me up to pursue?" And that's what I've always done.
Do grant, oh my God, that when my lips approach Yours to kiss You, I may taste the gall that was given to You; when my shoulders lean against Yours, make me feel Your scourging; when my flesh is united with Yours, in the Holy Eucharist, make me feel Your passion; when my head comes near Yours, make me feel Your thorns; when my heart is close to Yours, make me feel Your spear.
I make the music my ears want to hear, I wear the clothes my body wants to wear and the ones boys call me back for, and I generally make the songs that my feet dance to.
I shoot five or six times, go out and play defense and make sure everything is clicking. I'm like a transmission in a car. You can't see me, but I make the car go.
I make decisions all day, so it's nice for a woman like me to go to dinner and have the man take the menu and say, 'Let me order.' Other women would be offended by that, but I'm like, 'Good. Because I can't make one more decision today.' I want someone to rub my feet without being asked.
If I took my turkey out of the refrigerator and, like, threw it in a dumpster or drug it down the street in New York for a while [it will make people sick].
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
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