A Quote by Onew

Do you know why they're called mok-gloves? Because they go up to your wrists(pal-mok). — © Onew
Do you know why they're called mok-gloves? Because they go up to your wrists(pal-mok).
I have many pairs of long gloves because my wrists get cold as I also like coats with short sleeves - what Jackie O would have called bracelet-length sleeves.
Years ago, Barry Diller asked me to be a judge on a pilot for an inventor show on USA, and when it was over, the producer, Ken Mok, took me out to dinner and really got me talking. It was a long dinner. Afterward, he said, 'One day, I'm going to write your movie'.
Probably a lack of concentration. I always hit them during practice. I just need to concentrate. Even though I should a lousy percentage, I beat a lot of teams from the line. You have to have mechanics. But see, what people don't know about my wrists is my wrists don't go all the way back. My wrists are crooked and don't go all the way back. I've been practicing and working on them. You can't do everything good.
This guitar is such a pal. It's a psychiatrist. It's a doggone bartender. It's a housewife. This guy is everything. Whenever I find that I've got a problem, I'll go pick my guitar up and play. It's the greatest pal in the whole world.
Where you really have your eggs in one basket and that breach happens and you know you should go but you're still in love and you just don't know what to do. It hits you because it's not like -- you're a cheater, and a liar, and I hate you, and you're no good, and I'm leaving. It's not that. It's like, I'm tormented. Even though you've done this and I know it, I still don't know what to do. I know I should go, but I don't want to. And that's why it's such a f***ed-up thing.
You can have Jesus in your spirit and an outrgeous mess in your soul, and if you don't know what that's called it's called religion. That's what it's called dead dry religion......Jesus said you are a bunch of white washed tombs full of dead men's bones, and I tell you if that didn't describe me I don't know what did, because on Sunday mornings I dressed it up and took it to church.
There are three types of disease: body disease, mind disease, and nervous system disease. When the mind is diseased, the whole body is diseased. The yoga scriptures say “Manayeva manu ? ? kara a bandha mok ayo (this verse may be transliterated incorrectly),” the mind is the cause of both bondage and liberation. If the mind is sick and sad, the whole body gets sick, and all is finished. So first you must give medicine to the mind. Mind medicine: that is yoga.
I watched all the Academy screeners and I wanted to slit my wrists. Whether they are good or not good, I don't know why you make Foxcatcher? I don't know why you do it. What is it giving anybody except to have Steve Carell put on a rubber nose?
Haven't you heard the Democrats disparage people who sign up? It's something I've never understood. Okay, you don't like the military, fine and dandy, but why impugn the people that sign up? They're signing up knowing full well they're volunteering. They're offering their lives, potentially. Why impugn 'em? Why go out...? Because it's an opportunity to criticize America; that's why. Because in the Democrat world, nobody would ever join the military. "Good Lord, we'd go to Yale - hell, we'd go to Dartmouth - before we go to the military!
You don't get called up to the national team because you tell good jokes, you are funny, you are handsome or because you are Messi's friend. You are called up because you have a role at your given club and you have personality.
I can't get my wrists to bleed, just don't know why suicide appeals to me.
War is capitalism with the gloves off and many who go to war know it but they go to war because they don't want to be a hero.
My family called me the 'why kid' growing up. I always needed to know why something is happening, why I had to do something, why whatever.
I can't look at people's wrists. Something about the veins makes me weak. My siblings used to torture me with that because they knew it was the thing I couldn't handle. They would stick their wrists in my face.
My so-called faith went up in flames Till I believed in all your lies, For the life of me I don't know why. They got you wrong , You're not that strong. I don't belong here!
My dad was a kind of Kimbo Slice-type street fighter. He'd go out in the backyards up and down the Gulf Coast and duke it out. They'd wrap T-shirts around their hands for gloves, and take bets. He was a tremendous body puncher. One shot was usually all it took, so they called him 'One Time.'
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