A Quote by Rich Fulcher

I still have the Antonio Banderas outfit from when I toured with Noel Fielding. I kept that outfit, and if you guys want it back, forget about it. It's mine. Silky silky. My silky, silky shirt is mine. My black pants are mine. And the boot is mine!
When I just want to be free, I'll wear the Banderas outfit and the mask and touch myself. On the chest. Only on the chest. I just want to feel the silky silks.
My hair is quite silky and straight; however, every time I wash my hair in Hyderabad, it almost turns into a broom. The water is quite hard, and I didn't realise what the problem was until I saw another friend of mine facing a similar issue.
If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
It completely sickens me what our culture is doing to women. Last week I wore a big top and little shorts and a bunch of stuff came out saying I was without pants. 'The No-Pants Look,' it said. And I didn't go out without pants, I had shorts on... If Olivia Wilde had gone to a party with a big silky top and little shorts she might have been told her outfit was cute... What it was really: 'Why did you show us your thighs?'
Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine. "Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's." Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt. It broke his heart.
This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before.
If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I'm the most sampled and stolen. What's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine, too... I got a song about that... But I'm never gonna release it. Don't want a war with the rappers. If it wasn't good, they wouldn't steal it.
I'm like a little kid that has a basketball and don't want nobody else to play with it. "It's mine, it's mine, and it's mine!" When it comes to sneakers.
I'm famous for being a silky midfielder.
Noel Fielding is a friend of mine and I love what he does.
With a gentle pressure, our lips met. His hands slipped more firmly about me, and I held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as I leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. My hands rose to find his hair, and I relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. I wanted more, and I leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Are you mine?” Yes. “Are you mine?” Yes. “Are you mine?” No. “No?” No. I loved being yours. But now I’m mine, which is all I ever was, in the end.
You're mine," "Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.
You are a fountain of the sun's light. I am a willow shadow on the ground. You make my raggedness silky.
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