A Quote by Pattiann Rogers
Straight up from this road
Away from the fitted particles of frost
Coating the hull of each chick pea,
And the stiff archer bug making its way
In the morning dark, toe hair by toe hair,
Up the stem of the trillim,
Straight up through the sky above this road right now,
The galaxies of the Cygnus A cluster
Are colliding with each other in a massive swarm
Of interpenetrating and exploding catastrophes.
I try to remember that.
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I remember going through that process of growing my hair out, straightening it, cutting off the relaxed hair. I finally got to a point where I went to the Dominicans because they can straighten it real good. By the end of the day, the part of my hair that had just been pressed straight was already starting to coil back up.
They shaved a little piece of bone off my small toe. You see, you balance yourself a certain way and this toe had grown under the other ones. So he cut it loose, where I could balance myself and it makes me walk straight.
Growing up, I had really big hair. Giant hair. As I got older, the goal was to make it smaller - I wanted to look like everyone else. So I got a weave. I would manipulate my hair and try to make it straight.
The universe was exploding, each particle away from the next, hurtling us into dark and lonely space, eternally tearing us away from each other - child out of the womb, friend away from friend, moving from each other, each through his own pathway towards the goal-box of solitary death.
The only negative about doing stand-up is that you're on the road by yourself. When you're on the road with comics we just crack each other up every night going, "Can you believe they're paying us to do this? They're crazy.
Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it's worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise.
The road to death is a lonely highway, and longer than it apears, even when it leads straight down from the scaffold, by way of a rope; and it's a dark road, with never any moon shining on it, to light your way.
When I was younger, I thought that straight hair was, like, the only thing. So I was trying to be like Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks. I didn't know that people would add hair for more length. I'm like, 'Oh all these people just have natural hair like this.' I obviously grew up and figured out that everyone does something to their hair.
When I was a kid, I got a bob because all of the other girls on my soccer team with straight hair had one, and so I wanted one. Now I know girls with thick, curly hair should not get bobs. My hair was like one big circle.
All would wish to be saved and to enjoy the glory of paradise; but to gain heaven, it is necessary to walk in the straight road that leads to eternal bliss. This road is the observance of the divine commandments. Hence, in his preaching, the Baptist exclaimed: Make straight the way of the Lord.
I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads
I remember wrapping up the shoot for 'Hope And A Little Sugar' and going straight to a salon to cut my hair very short.
Henceforth the cosmos, once a swarm of blazing galaxies, each a swarm of stars, was composed wholly of star-corpses. These dark grains drifted through the dark void, like an infinitely tenuous smoke rising from an extinguished fire. Upon these motes, these gigantic worlds, the ultimate populations had created here and there with their artificial lighting a pale glow, invisible even from the innermost ring of lifeless planets.
Your hair looks funny," Lief said, as soon as the Ugloids left. "It stands straight up!" No," said Nick, intensely irritated, "It's hanging straight down." Lief just gave him an upside-down shrug. "Up is down in China and you're part-Chinese.
Every summer in my old area, Bow, these kids from across the road used to bring out quad bikes in the park. They let me have a go, and I don't know what was wrong with me, but I drove straight into a gate and fractured my big toe. I had this mad limp for ages.
My family suffered. My hair turned up in every corner, every drawer, every meal. Even in the rice puddings Tessie made, covering each little bowl with wax paper before putting it away in the fridge--even into these prophylactically secure desserts my hair found its way! Jet black hairs wound themselves around bars of soap. They lay pressed like flower stems between the pages of books. They turned up in eyeglass cases, birthday cards, once--I swear--inside an egg Tessie had just cracked. The next-door neighbor's cat coughed up a hairball one day and the hair was not the cat's.
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