A Quote by Lemmy Kilmister
I climbed down the outside of a Holiday Inn once just to surprise one of my crew by getting on his balcony and knocking on his window.
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He thought back on his family with deep emotion and love. His conviction that he would have to disappear was, if possible, even firmer than his sister's. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful reflection until the tower clock struck three in the morning. He still saw that outside the window everything was beginning to grow light. Then, without his consent, his head sank down to the floor, and from his nostrils streamed his last weak breath.
Fame it's like... When you look through a window, say you pass a little pub, or an inn. You look through the window and you see people talking and carrying on. You,can watch outside the window and see them all being very real with each other. But when you walk into the room, it's over. I don't pay any attention to it.
Merripen, despite his fear of heights, had often climbed a ladder to wash the second floor window for her. He had wanted her view of the outside world to be clear. He had said the sky should always be blue for her.
The Christian is the most contented man in the world, but he is the least contented with the world. He is like a traveler in an inn, perfectly satisfied with the inn and its accommodation, considering it as an inn, but putting quite out of all consideration the idea of making it his home.
Why can't a man stand alone? Must he be burdened by all that he's taught to consider his own? His skin and his station, his kin and his crown, his flag and his nation They just weigh him down
Once again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice.
First impressions of mediaeval life are usually coloured by the courtly romances of Malory and his later refiners. Chaucer brings us down to reality, but his people belong to a prosperous middle-class world, on holiday and in holiday mood. Piers Plowman stands alone as a revelation of the ignorance and misery of the lower classes, whose multiplied grievances came to a head in the Peasants' Revolt of 1381.
Paul Scholes was the jewel in the crown, the first name on the teamsheet and unquestionably one of the finest England players of the age. He flourished at once in the international arena, which didn't surprise me given his fabulous all-round attributes. He had almost everything - talent, intelligence, courage. His only blemish, which he never really shook off, was his tackling. There was always the chance of that red mist coming down. Overall, though, Paul was a wonderful player and he's a lovely lad, a credit to his club and to himself.
Robert Louis Stevenson, one evening, stood transfixed at his nursery window watching the lamplighter in the street. When his nanny asked the boy what he was doing he replied: 'I'm watching the man knocking holes in the darkness.' We live in a universe made dark by sin. Let's knock holes in the darkness.
We are only here below as in an inn on a journey. Let us, then have the feelings of travelers. We should think a man very strange who attached himself much to his inn. The wise Christian will not do this.
Quentin [Taranino] will say, "We've got it, but we're gonna do it one more time. Why?" And then, the entire cast and crew chimes in and says, "Because we love making movies!" He is a person who celebrates this form of expression, and it is evident in his movies, his conversations, his extensive knowledge about the history of what we do, and the actors and crew that he assembles.
When a man you know to be of sound mind tells you his recently deceased mother has just tried to climb in his bedroom window and eat him, you only have two basic options. You can smell his breath, take his pulse and check his pupils to see if he's ingested anything nasty, or you can believe him.
At least, not in this country,' she added after a moment's thought. 'In China it's a little different. Once I saw a Chinaman in Shanghai. His ears were so big he could use them for a raincoat. When it rained, he just crept in under his ears and was warm and snug as could be. Not that the ears had such a rattling good time of it, you understand. If it was specially bad weather, he'd invite friends and acquaintances to pitch camp under his ears too. There they sat, singing their sorrowful songs while it poured down outside.
For once, his vampire expression failed him. His response was right there on his face, in full view and easily read. He went from surprise to disbelief then hope and sheer, utter joy all within a split second of each other, then he let loose a huge whoop of delight and swept me into his arms, hugging me fiercely.
I'm not angry about 'Bo' Selecta!' I was flattered at first and even appeared on his show, but he just went on to become more vicious, knocking down everything I did.
As long as my voice is here, and there is a Holiday Inn waiting for me, then everything's just swell.
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