A Quote by Lesley Visser
I went to the top of the Cotton Bowl by myself, sat down and cried.
Related Quotes
I was on the verge of tears, so I turned and ran past the trailer and along the field road until I was safely out of their sight. Then I ducked into the cotton and waited for friendly voices. I sat on the hot ground, surrounded by stalks four feet tall, and I cried, something I really hated to do.
When he heard there was nothing to eat, he sat down and wept… “Why did I ever wake up!” he cried.
You're working a million hours and you're on the road recruiting and you're doing all these things, but at the end of the day, you're competing for a championship. You're competing for a Big Ten Championship, you're in the Rose Bowl, you're taking your family to the Cotton Bowl.
I was fortunate enough to win a Super Bowl before retiring, and in fact I retired immediately after winning the Super Bowl. I went out on top, and intend to come out of the Guinness Pro Challenge on top, too.
I cried over beauty, I cried over pain, and the other time I cried because I felt nothing. I can't help it. I'm just a cliché of myself.
You can't beat the Cotton Bowl. There's nothing like that.
The Iraqis sat down for talks on how to put together a post-war government. They would have sat down yesterday, but somebody stole all their couches.
He sat down. I sat down next to him. And after a silence, he spoke again. 'The stars are beautiful because of a flower you don't see...' I answered, 'Yes, of course.
One day Mum saved up for this exciting new thing - a frozen chicken. She cooked it on the Sunday and we all sat around waiting for it, but there was a terrible smell from the kitchen. She didn't realise that the giblets were in a plastic bag inside it. We just ate vegetables and she cried and cried.
On her daughter Melissa: The only time she really cried is when I sat her down and told her that she was not adopted.
If I fell down and hurt myself, I never cried. There was no one to hear me.
Franz Kafka is dead. He died in a tree from which he wouldn't come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you'll stop asking for me."
The sun came out,
And the snowman cried.
His tears ran down
on every side.
His tears ran down
Till the spot was cleared.
He cried so hard
That he disappeared.
Paper money is made of cotton, and I'm long cotton, by the way. One reason I'm long cotton is because Dr. Bernanke is out there running the printing presses as fast as he can.
If we steal thoughts from the moderns, it will be cried down as plagiarism; if from the ancients, it will be cried up as erudition.
Cross out as many adjectives and adverbs as you can. ... It is comprehensible when I write: "The man sat on the grass," because it is clear and does not detain one's attention. On the other hand, it is difficult to figure out and hard on the brain if I write: "The tall, narrow-chested man of medium height and with a red beard sat down on the green grass that had already been trampled down by the pedestrians, sat down silently, looking around timidly and fearfully." The brain can't grasp all that at once, and art must be grasped at once, instantaneously.
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