A Quote by Pete Burns

I live a quiet daytime life. I walk everywhere. I lie down. I wash socks. I fry an egg. — © Pete Burns
I live a quiet daytime life. I walk everywhere. I lie down. I wash socks. I fry an egg.
Render any politician down and there's enough fat to fry an egg.
God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.
I live in the spirit of prayer. I pray as I walk about, when I lie down and when I rise up. And the answers are always coming.
I want to live my life without filters. I don't walk on egg shells. I say what I want and I'm a very free spirit.
Balthazar has a great New York vibe with the accent of a Parisian brasserie. I usually have the corned beef hash with a fried egg on top and wash it all down with Krug Champagne.
Quiet is peace. Tranquility. Quiet is turning down the volume knob on life. Silence is pushing the off button. Shutting it down. All of it.
Oh we will all fry together when we fry. We'll be french fried potatoes by and by. There will be no more misery When the world is our rotisserie, Yes, we will all fry together when we fry.
I can't wait to get home and wash all those socks.
The best way to fry an egg is to let the white out so it forms a base, then drop the yellow bit in the middle.
A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life, for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy dare live.
Part of my preparation is I go and ask the kit man what colour we're wearing - if it's red top, white shorts, white socks or black socks. Then I lie in bed the night before the game and visualise myself scoring goals or doing well.
When I get down to my last dime I'll just walk over to skid row." "There are some real weirdos down there." "They're everywhere.
In the first year of a child's life we teach them to walk and talk. And then for the rest of their lives we want them to sit down and be quiet.
I can fry hollandaise, I can fry ketchup, I can fry mustard.
I used to walk down the street like I was a super star... I want people to walk around delusional about how great they can be - and then to fight so hard for it every day that the lie becomes the truth.
On numerous visits to Manhattan, I have found myself poking around the city trying to find a moment of quiet and once located a hint of it in Central Park during a windless, late-night snowfall. There I stood absolutely still in the lemon glow of the city, a sky full of snow. The city still roared from all sides, a thousand noises compressed down to just one. I counted that distant, mild roar as quiet, a welcome relief from the more pressing noises of the daytime city.
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