A Quote by Ken Griffey Jr.

I'm not a player who beats his own drum. — © Ken Griffey Jr.
I'm not a player who beats his own drum.
Christ beats his drum, but he does not press men; Christ is served with voluntaries.
Playing well with others is important - not being too flashy, just keeping good time and of course coming up with cool beats. A good snare drum, kick drum, high hat. Just getting good at the hand feet coordination.
Nothing beats 2 guitars, drum and bass.
I love the percussion. It's a right brain, left brain thing. There are different beats, but cooperating together. It's your whole body doing it, you're doing the snare drum and the high top with your hands and the bass drum with your foot. You're this whole motion machine.
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Secrets stolen from deep inside....the drum beats out of time
When Cristiano Ronaldo gets the ball, you can just leave him to it while he beats player after player.
I want to beat the world record for the number of beats per second on a drum pad.
And then there came the pounding of another drum, as if another giant were coming yards behind him, and each giant, intent on his own drum, gave no notice to the rhythm of the other. The sound grew louder and louder until it seemed to fill not just my hearing but all my senses, to be throbbing in my lips and fingers, in the flesh of my temples, in my veins.
Everyday courage has few witnesses. But yours is no less noble because no drum beats for you and no crowds shout your name.
Actually, it's great to play with someone who tries to come up with interesting drum beats because it pushes the music in different directions.
I welcome someone who is willing to march to the beat of his own drum - to hell with the haters.
If a player digests his own statistical information in his own time, on his own laptop, tablet or whatever, without a coach standing over him, it makes it easier for him. It helps with the pressure. There's a fear factor but spending time at home analysing things can help control it.
Dad bought me a toy drum one Christmas and I eventually destroyed it. I wanted a real drum and he bought me a snare drum. Dad continued to buy me one drum after the other.
Dad bought me a toy drum one Christmas, and I eventually destroyed it. I wanted a real drum and he bought me a snare drum. Dad continued to buy me one drum after the other.
The only time I can ever remember Steven crying over any of it was after my treatment, when I tried to use my foot on his bass drum pedal, and we realized I could never play a drum set.
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