A Quote by Manny Machado

Playing at home is always better. You get to sleep in your own bed, drive your own car, and see your own fans. — © Manny Machado
Playing at home is always better. You get to sleep in your own bed, drive your own car, and see your own fans.
The American success formula is first to get a home of your own, then to get a car of your own so you don't have to stay in that home of your own.
Wrestling is a very demanding thing. But you're also your own manager. You book your own rental cars, you book your own hotels. You carry your own bags. Your day begins as soon as you wake up, and it ends when you get to bed.
You'd better hope and pray That you make it safe Back to your own world You'd better hope and pray That you'll wake one day in your own world 'Cause when you sleep at night They don't hear your cries in your own world Only time will tell if you can break the spell Back in your own world.
If you're really going to uncover something as an artist, you're going to come into access with parts of your personality and your psyche that are really uncomfortable to face: your own ambition, your own greed, your own avarice, your own jealousies, and anything that would get in the way of the purity of your own artistic voice.
There will always be someone with a cuter girl, a bigger car, a bigger home, but that does not matter. You measure your own performance by your own potential. That's what makes a successful person.
It seems to me that awakening to the full potential of what your life might be - beyond the possibilities of your own family, your own class, your own race, your own neighborhood - that is one of the great gifts that art affords.
Who said you had to fill his shoes? Wear your own shoes. They're bound to fit better. Walk your own path your own way and you'll be more likely to get to where you need to be.
It's a great excuse and luxury, having a job and blaming it for your inability to do your own art. When you don't have to work, you are left with the horror of facing your own lack of imagination and your own emptiness. A devastating possibility when finally time is your own.
But grief is a walk alone. Others can be there, and listen. But you will walk alone down your own path, at your own pace, with your sheared-off pain, your raw wounds, you denial, anger, and bitter loss. You'll come to your own peace, hopefully, but it will be on your own, in your own time.
All the great masters in the world have been saying only one thing down the centuries, "Have your own mind and have your own individuality. Don't be a part of the crowd; don't be a wheel in the whole mechanism of a vast society. Be individual, on your own. Live life with your own eyes; listen to music with your own ears." But we are not doing anything with our own ears, with our own eyes, with our own minds; everything is being taught, and we are following it.
The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't. If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then you'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more. Not only our actions, but also our omissions, become our destiny.
Whenever you're trying to do your own take on a classic piece of literature, it's almost like you're trying to swim up your own stream or drive down your own path.
Know your own Self. Honor your own Self. Find and be who you really are, at the deepest level of your own being. Be present in your own presence. Give yourself the gift of your own Self.
Normally, with stand-up, it's quite solitary, you write the material on your own, you perform it on your own, it's all very much on you. Your own thoughts. You have to sort of modulate your own performance.
What? You're thinking for yourself? You're deciding on your own? You're applying your own yardsticks, your own judgments, your own values? Who do you think you are, anyway? And, indeed, that is precisely the question you are answering.
You are literally filled with the fruit of your own devices, with rats and mice and such small deer, paramecia, and entomostraceæ, and kicking things with horrid names, which you see in microscopes at the Polytechnic, and rush home and call for brandy-without the water-stone, and gravel, and dyspepsia, and fragments of your own muscular tissue tinged with your own bile.
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