A Quote by Paloma Picasso
Because I was so quiet, my father let me spend hours and hours next to him while he would sketch. Everyone else was always asking things from him. I wasn't asking anything. I was just happy to be there.
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I don't think he was ever happy unless someone was in love with him, responding to him like filings to a magnet, helping him to explain himself, promising him something. What it was I do not know. Perhaps they promised that there would always be women in the world who would spend their brightest, freshest, rarest hours to nurse and protect that superiority he cherished in his heart.
I'm like, 'John, people treat me differently because they just look at me as a girlfriend,' and unfortunately, that's our world. Now all of a sudden - just within hours of him putting a ring on it and asking me to be his wife - it is crazy the level of respect people have for me.
I've always been into asking the big questions; I'm the last guy out the door at closing time cuz I was sittin' around 'til the wee hours with the other ones who were asking the same things.
Ask God for what you want, but you cannot ask if you are not asking for a right thing. When you draw near to God, you cease from asking for things."Your Father knows what things you have need of, before you ask him." Then, why ask? That you may get to know Him.
He's always with me; I'm always asking. He can be my father, or he can be my coach, or he can be an ex-player. I can ask him so many things. He teaches me a lot, and I'm really thankful.
Everyone keeps asking me when I have time to rest. I'll tell you when: I get all my sleep on planes. If the flight is five hours, my nap is five hours! I'll sleep through the whole flight.
Everyone disliked their partners at some time or another, she knew that. But she’d spent her hours in the dark wondering whether she’d ever liked him. Would it really have been so much worse to spend those years alone? Why did there have to be someone else in the room while she was eating, watching TV, sleeping?
As a kid, I was always listening to music. I would just go in to my room and put on an album, read the lyrics, and just spend hours and hours in there. Plus, my sister Laurie played piano (in fact she taught me my first few notes) so music was always around one way or another.
When I was 15, I had a crush on this guy who was really good at magic, and so I learned to juggle, thinking it would impress him. I spent hours and hours practicing, planning to show him. And then I never even saw him again. But at least I learned how to juggle.
Contemplating an object fixedly with the mind, asking myself, 'What is it?' without thinking of any other object or relating it to anything else for hours on end.
If I feel like crying, I'll just cry in a dream. Something I really try not to do in my waking hours. I like good melodrama because it's just an undumping of all these compulsions we feel that we work so hard to master during our waking hours. No wonder we crash to sleep in bed at night. We have to, otherwise we'd just spend our waking hours shredding the feelings from everybody else.
My father wasn't allowing me control and the financial freedom that I was asking for. I was 17, about to be 18 within a year, so I started asking more questions because I felt that I needed to start learning about those things.
If there was a dream match I could do, it would definitely be in a match against Curt Hennig. I think, growing watching him, I have hours and hours and hours of footage of 'Mr. Perfect' Curt Hennig and just studied his stuff for years.
As a child, all I knew was that people kept asking me to sing, and because I liked to please, I would sing. It wasn't until my dad told me that my singing made him happy that I began to think my voice might be good.
I grew up watching LeBron and asking him to follow me back on Twitter, going to his camps. So just to be able to compete against a player like him and be a few shots away from beating him and his team to go to a championship is something I will always remember.
And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that your should seek with him hours to kill? Seek with him always hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship, let there be laughter, and the sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
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