A Quote by Mark Twain
It takes me a long time to lose my temper, but once lost I could not find it with a dog.
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I used to have a short temper. I still have one and when I lose it, it's bad. I think it comes from what you see when you're young. Sometimes it builds from being scared as well. Once you lose it once, you find comfort in losing your temper. It becomes embedded in you.
I think that fear does come into it in some respect in the sense of when I lost my temper I didn't hide behind a bush on it in respect to the times that I did lose my temper. But you know the quality that I had when I lost my temper, I never, ever brought it back again.
You don't lose your temper and throw the cat out the door. You don't lose your temper and throw a dish at the dog and make him thing he's going to die.
You could time a suburban story by your watch: it lasts as long as it takes a small furry animal that's lonely to find friends, or a small furry animal that's lost to find its parents; it lasts as long as a quick avowal of love; it lasts precisely as long as the average parent is disposed on a Tuesday night to spend reading aloud to children.
If you sue somebody it takes two years, three years, and your anger just gets lost in between. And even if you win or lose the trial, it takes such a long time. If you want to really take a personal revenge, you'd better do it by yourself and at the right time.
It take me one year to lose all that weight. Look, it takes a long time to put it in; it takes a long time to take it off. It's a struggle in the beginning, and then you get used to it. I work also with a nutritionist, and she helped me. She became a friend.
I wish I hadn't lost it, and for the rest of my life I can never again lose my temper on TV. The BBC could have sacked me and that would have been the end of my career on TV.
I mean, if I went into my closet, I could find a previous draft and try to figure that out, but it takes a long time for me to find the voice to tell a story in. I was working from other points of view for a couple years there.
I've spoken to people who have retired once they lost the enjoyment of a long day in the field or going to the gym. If I lose that, it's time to go.
I am not yours, nor lost in you, not lost, although I long to be. Lost as a candle lit at noon, lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still a spirit beautiful and bright, yet I am I, who long to be lost as a light is lost in light.
There's a game out there, and the stakes are high. And the guy who runs it figures the averages all day long and all night long. Once in a while he lets you steal a pot. But if you stay in the game long enough, you've got to lose. And once you've lost there's no way back, no way at all.
Only when emotion is involved do you get angry and lose your temper. You could have different points of view, but as long as it is constructive dissent, it is fun.
A very wise dog woman once told me that dogs find owners, not the other way around. They pick you and they choose to stay with you. In that way, they are also giving you the end of their life. The deeper the bond, the harder it is to say good-bye. I know I'd rather have any amount of time with a dog I love and suffer the mourning than not have the time at all.
But no longer could I aks God what to do, since the answer, I was sure, would not suit me. I could do what suited me know, as long as I could pay for it. 'As long as I could pay for it.' That phrase soon became the tail that wagged my dog. If I had died then, it should have been my epigraph.
Basically it takes me very little time to write a song. If I find myself taking more than an hour to do it I usually forget it, and try something else. I like to work quickly; I never like to waste any time. I never write half a song and come back to it later at all. It all has to be done at once. I lose interest if it doesn't.
I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.
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