A Quote by Lynn Davies

I had jumped about 6.40 metres with no training, no run-up, and certainly no skill, when this big, good-looking guy came up to me and told me I could be great. — © Lynn Davies
I had jumped about 6.40 metres with no training, no run-up, and certainly no skill, when this big, good-looking guy came up to me and told me I could be great.
The story he [Todd Willingham] told me was this: He woke up to a fire. He ran out of the house and couldn't run back in to save his children, and that was enough to get me interested. ... There's a writer in me that's like, ... this is a great story. ... I have a good friend, who was my neighbor at the time, and I told her about it. ... She had been a reporter, and she was like, "Let's go investigate it."
Racing comes easily to me, especially the 100 metres. That is why, no matter how fast I run the run the 100 metres, the 200 will always mean more to me, because of the effort I've put in.
At the Superdome, a young man came up to me holding a baby. He'd run out of diapers. He'd run out of medicine. His baby was sick. The guy's saying, 'Help me! Take my baby.' What could I do? That's the definition of helpless.
I had a guy come up to me once in the gym when I'm training arms and tell me that I should do curls this way. I looked at his arms and they were about fifteen inches. That would be like me walking up to Tom Platz and telling him how to squat!
I knew Glenn Frey. He called me up in 1977 and told me The Eagles were looking for a bass player, preferably someone who could write and had a high voice. That was me.
I grew up in a family in which no male upstream from me had ever finished high school, much less gone to college. But I was taught that even though there was nothing I could do about what was behind me, I could change everything about what was in front of me. My working poor parents told me that I could do better.
All kids draw and write poetry and everything, and some of us last until we're about eighteen, but most drop off at about twelve when some guy comes up and says, "You're no good." That's all we get told all our lives. "You haven't got the ability. You're a cobbler." It happened to all of us, but if somebody had told me all my life, "Yeah, you're a great artist," I would have been a more secure person.
My mom, who gave me my confidence growing up. She's the one that always told me that I could be great and to never stop. And myself. Because I came such a long way.
My first agent told me to change my name or I'd only play Jewish parts or Indians. Of course I refused to change it. Shortly thereafter she came up to me and told me I had to keep it, because her numerologist said it was very, very good.
The most telling one was recently on a plane. This guy very dressed up and formal - the watch, the shoes, the cufflinks, the whole nine yards - he came at me, and I thought I was going to get nailed. But he literally came up to me and just gave me a hug and said, "Thank you for introducing me to a subject that I didn't know anything about." In those moments it always clicks for me what we're doing here.
Me and my mates go free running all the time. It's not my mum's favourite sport. I've probably jumped four metres on to grass and two metres between buildings. It's nothing like you see on the Internet, with guys jumping off skyscrapers, but it's fun.
A homeless guy came up to me on the street, said he hadn't eaten in four days. I told him, "Man, I wish I had your willpower.
During a training session, Ibra made a mess of five consecutive passes and no-one told him anything. When I made a mess of one, he shouted at me. We had an exchange of words. After training, he came to apologise, and told me it was the first time in his life that he'd been wrong.
I wish I were whole. I wish I could have given you youngs, if you'd wanted them and I could conceive them. I wish I could have told you it killed me when you thought I had been with anyone else. I wish I had spent the last year waking up every night and telling you I loved you. I wish I had mated you properly the evening you came back to me from the dead.
A guy came up to me in the park and asked if I wanted to buy his CD. I said sure. He got panicked and told me he didn't actually have a CD, and he started crying and then told me he never made it and he's really sorry and called me 'Ralph.' New York's a really weird place.
[My father] came over as an immigrant and didn't know any English. He went to work at a sweat shop in Baltimore. He told me later that this guy was coming around, and the guy seemed to be for the workers, so he signed up. It turned out that guy was an IWW organizer . My father didn't regret signing up; he just really didn't know what was going on.
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