A Quote by Jimi Hendrix
I want to thank you my sweet darling for digging in the mud and picking me up.
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I want to thank my momma for pulling up. I want to thank my boys who was with me since day one; thank you for pulling up on me.
Although to be fair, cherry picking isn't quite what we do. Cherries are sweet and delicious. What we do is more turd mining. And I'll thank you to give our work the respect it deserves!
Oh, Teddy, darling, thank you, thank you, for restoring my cynicism. I was too young to lose it.
First of all, I want to thank the Buccaneers for giving me the opportunity and for picking me in the draft. This is the nature of the beast, though, and this is a new start for me. I wish them the best of luck, and I am just glad to be a Bear.
It's nice to see you again, Laura." "Thank you, Mrs. T-" "No, no, no. Please, my name is-" "Mud," I suggested. "Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short." ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy
Digging a ditch where madness gives a bit
Digging a ditch where silence lives
Digging a ditch for when I'm old
Digging this ditch my story's told
Where all these troubles weigh down on me will rise .....
Where all these questions spinning round my head will die
I want to thank my fans for their support and love all these years, thank you Miami. Thank you Latin America. Thank you Mexico. Thank you world !
From my image of digging around in the mud like a grunt, I preferred fighting the war from ships.
I have to dig from myself versus digging from something that I like. Digging from something you like is easy whereas from your inside, it's a totally different ballgame altogether. That's not a matter between picking red and blue, it's not like that. It's a decision, it's a choice and, like I've said in the past, it's like jumping off a cliff and hoping you survive the jump.
My stepdad was a farmer, so growing up, during summer breaks, I woke up every morning and went to work. Harvesting tobacco, picking cucumbers, gathering watermelons from the patch, pulling up sweet potatoes... stuff like that.
I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. Lucky me, lucky mud.
The first song I wrote was called 'Baby Darling Darling Girl,' and you know what's funny? It went, 'Baby darling darling girl, I really love your Jheri Curl.' I thought it was tight as hell.
If I had a message to give my dad, it'd probably be, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.' He's helped me so much on this crazy journey. Giving up his job, being away from my mom, and being away from home for that much just because of me? It's a lot. And I thank him for it.
I write. I imagine. The act of imagining in itself enlivens me. I am not frozen and paralyzed before the predator. I invent characters. At times I feel as if I am digging up people from the ice in which reality enshrouded them, but maybe, more than anything else, it is myself that I am now digging up.
I want to stop and thank you baby, how sweet it is to be loved by you.
Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness — as if happiness sat on the throne. Often, mud sits on the throne — and often the throne also on mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and overardent. Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul, they smell to me altogether, these idolators.
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