A Quote by Milton Berle

I bought my mother-in-law a beautiful chair for Christmas, but she won't let me plug it in. — © Milton Berle
I bought my mother-in-law a beautiful chair for Christmas, but she won't let me plug it in.
I wanted to do something nice so I bought my mother-in-law a chair. Now they won't let me plug it in.
My mother had bought a sewing machine for me. When I went away to college, she gave me a sewing machine, a typewriter and a suitcase, and my mother made $17 a week working as a maid 12 hours a day, and she did that for me.
She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.
I definitely get my artistry and my vocal talent from my mother and mother's side. She sang in a jazz trio band so growing up my dad would always take me to see her play and she has a beautiful voice. When I was little and started to sing, she supported me and let that fire burn. She always knew what it took as a support system.
Eventually, my dad bought me a guitar for Christmas, and then I just went from there, man. I bought a drum kit a few years later and bought a bass, started producing, started singing.
My mother-in-law thinks I'm more beautiful than all the other faces around. She keeps encouraging me to take up more work.
For Christmas one year I bought my son a BB gun. He bought me a t-shirt with a bulls eye on the back.
Some of the most beautiful people, to me, are those with the wrong geometry. Mother Teresa is extremely beautiful and not because she is a saint. Her characteristics are very strange, and that is what generates the power she had.
I bought my mum a car, and I bought my brother one of those hoverboards for Christmas, and I bought my family a holiday to Australia.
My mother carried me for 10 months. I asked her 'Mother, you had an extra month, why you didn't make me a beautiful face?' and mother told me, 'My son, I was busy making your beautiful hands and heart.'
A chair must be really important as an object, because my mother always told me to offer my chair to a lady
You can hit my father over the head with a chair and he won't wake up, but my mother, all you have to do to my mother is cough somewhere in Siberia and she'll hear you.
My mother was a very beautiful lady, I thought. She was very good to me. I guess - she died when I was nine and a half, but if she had lived I probably wouldn't be trying to play guitar. She wanted me to be known, but as something else. Not a guitar player.
My mother was a very beautiful lady, I thought. She was very good to me. I guess - she died when I was nine and a half, but if she had lived, I probably wouldn't be trying to play guitar. She wanted me to be known, but as something else. Not a guitar player.
My mother never, ever told me about evilness. She only saw the beautiful things... she wanted to protect me from it.
I'm very objective about what I want to have happen to my protagonists and where that has to come from. On one hand, it does help me that I had a mother who might have taken the last dollar and bought a pack of cigarettes or something, but I also had a mother who exposed me to art, music, other religions, different foods. My mother was very adventurous in her own way, so she fed the part of me that was going to grow up to be a writer. But there's always, too, the opposite response that helps me to create.
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