A Quote by Paul Westhead

There was nothing ordinary about Hank Gathers. He was a walking thunderbolt. — © Paul Westhead
There was nothing ordinary about Hank Gathers. He was a walking thunderbolt.
For them, it was nothing but an ordinary day on an ordinary day on an ordinary weekend, but for her, there was something revelatory about the notion that wonderful moments like these existed.
You can't hide the thunderbolt. When it hits you, everybody can see it. Christ, man, don't be ashamed of it, some men pray for the thunderbolt. You're a very lucky fellow. - Calo
You see yourself as very average, ordinary. And there is nothing ordinary about you, Rachel." (Something Borrowed)
It takes no effort to be ordinary. Ordinary is not even a challenge. You can do nothing and be ordinary.
As the rolling stone gathers no moss, so the roving heart gathers no affections.
The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.
There has never been, and never again will be a human being like you. There is nothing ordinary about you. If you feel ordinary, it is because you have chosen to hide the extraordinary parts of yourself from the world.
As Alaska zipped through something obvious about linear equations, stoner/baller Hank Walsten said, "Wait, wait. I don't get it." "That's because you have eight functioning brain cells." "Studies show that Marijuana is better for your health than those cigarettes," Hank said. Alaska swallowed a mouthful of fries, took a drag on her cigarette, and blew a smoke at Hank. "I may die young," she said. "But at least I'll die smart. Now, back to tangents.
If you think you’re average, then you’ll be average. If you think you’re ordinary, then you’ll live ordinary. The truth is, there is nothing ordinary about you. You have something to offer that nobody else can offer.
The melodies were melodies that anybody could sing or hum or whistle. And the words were just about that simple. I think the stories Hank told in his song fit so many people. Nearly everybody in the audience acted as if Hank were singin to them alone.
I remember us coming to Denver when Hank was coach and we were up by four touchdowns just before halftime when Hank decided to go for an onside kick.
You have ordinary moments and ordinary moments and more ordinary moments, and then, suddenly, there is something monumental right there. You have past and future colliding in the present, your own personal Big Bang, and nothing will ever be the same.
The extraordinarily facile and in literary terms long lived works tend to be about ordinary people. Even Sappho writes about the utterly insignificant . What art can do is make the extraordinary more ordinary and ordinary more extraordinary.
There is nothing "ordinary" about reality.
He inclined his head at my dress. "What's the occasion?" "Homecoming," I said, twirling. "Like?" "Last I heard, Homecoming requires a date." "About that," i hedged. "I'm sort of...going with Scott. We both figure a high-school dance is the last place Hank will be patrolling." Patch smiled, but it was tight. "I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.
Nothing is lost upon a man who is bent upon growth; nothing wasted on one who is always preparing for - life by keeping eyes, mind and heart open to nature, men, books, experience - and what he gathers serves him at unexpected moments in unforeseen ways.
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