April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It's raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It's raining violets.
Don't piss in my ear and tell me it's raining.
Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining.
Tell me I'm clever, Tell me I'm kind, Tell me I'm talented, Tell me I'm cute, Tell me I'm sensitive, Graceful and wise, Tell me I'm perfect - But tell me the truth.
Don’t spit down my back and tell me it’s raining.
It is not raining to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on distant hills.
Do not tell me what to do, tell me what you do. Do not tell me what is good for me, tell me what is good for you. If, at the same time, you reveal the you in me, if you become a mirror to my inner self, then you have made a reader and a friend.
It's raining my soul, it's raining, but it's raining dead eyes.
There is a small, but important, difference between peeing in the pool, and peeing into the pool.
Tell me I'm beautiful, it's nothing. Tell me I'm intellectual - I know it. Tell me I'm funny, and it's the greatest compliment in the world anyone could give me.
Tell me I'm beautiful, it's nothing. Tell me I'm intellectual - I know it. Tell me I'm funny and it's the greatest compliment in the world anyone could give me.
I saw someone peeing in Jermym Street the other day. I thought, is this the end of civilization as we know it? Or is it simply someone peeing in Jermyn Street?
When I was younger, coming up in this industry, I was 17, 18 years old. You couldn't tell me Beyonce wasn't my friend. You couldn't tell me that Janet Jackson wasn't my girl. You couldn't tell me that once I signed to my label that me and J.Lo weren't going to have tea in L.A.
It is raining DNA outside. On the bank of the Oxford canal at the bottom of my garden is a large willow tree, and it is pumping downy seeds into the air. ... spreading DNA whose coded characters spell out specific instructions for building willow trees that will shed a new generation of downy seeds. ... It is raining instructions out there; it's raining programs; it's raining tree-growing, fluff-spreading, algorithms. That is not a metaphor, it is the plain truth. It couldn't be any plainer if it were raining floppy discs.
So many stories, and to choose which ones to tell and how to tell them. The words, they will tap me on the shoulder and they will speak to me: 'Tell me! Tell me!' The stories choose me.
So many stories, and to choose which ones to tell and how to tell them. The words, they will tap me on the shoulder and they will speak to me: Tell me! Tell me! The stories choose me.