A Quote by Sam Snead

Nobody asked how you looked, just what you shot. — © Sam Snead
Nobody asked how you looked, just what you shot.

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After college, I really looked at every single shot that I shot. Pretty much every shot in my sophomore year and my junior year and just watched my form. I watched how I shot it from 3, and I just noticed I was a very undisciplined shooter.
I don't worry about the last shot or the next shot. I concentrate. Every shot gets a clean slate. And when a shot is over, I wipe it out absolutely. Tell a joke or something. If you worry about how you looked, how well you did, you'll go insane.
Nobody ever looked up and saw a good shot.
Go out and ask her into the alley.” Clay looked at Jeremy as if he’d just been told to dance the rumba on a public thoroughfare. I bit back a laugh. “Just walk over to her and point at the alley. Maybe say…I don’t know…something like ‘fifty bucks.’ ” I looked at Jeremy. “Does that sound right? Fifty?” His brows shot up. “Why are you asking me?” “I wasn’t—I just meant, as a general…” I threw up my hands. “How am I supposed to know how much a hooker costs?
I’m just not interested.” “Do you have ovaries?” Jacob asked. I shot him a look. “Yes.” … “Then how are you not interested.
The first video I shot for "A Zip and a Double Cup"â€"I have two versions, a remix video and a the originalâ€"because I wasn’t really trying to do anything. I just came home and got kind of high and shot a video in the parking lot. I just shot the video how I wanted to do it and posted it online and the next day it went crazy.
Nobody the dead man & Nobody the living Nobody is giving in & Nobody is giving Nobody hears me but just Nobody cares Nobody fears me but Nobody just stares Nobody belongs to me & Nobody remains No Nobody knows nothing All that remains are remains
I think the parts I was offered when I was younger, where I was asked to play that kind of slacker person, that was just because people would go, "Oh, she has dyed black hair." I guess that's how they thought I looked. I played a couple of those roles, and then unfortunately you get pigeonholed really fast, and then you just keep getting asked to do that. And now it would be weird at the age of 46 for me to play a slacker. It would look like I was nuts.
When I was little, I looked in the mirror and held the Bible in my hand - that's how I talked to God. I never just asked for stuff. The way I saw it, if you give Him something, you get something.
I remember once when we were moving, driving across country, and it was raining so hard, the windshield wipers going fast and squeaking, and then: nothing. It stopped. I looked out the window ahead of me and it was clear. I looked out the back and there was the rain, still going. Nobody said anything, but there it was, a near miracle, a rain line, a way of seeing just where something starts, when usually you are just in the middle of it before you notice it. That's how it feels to me now, to not want to be like (that) anymore. I see the line.
There was no precedent. If I asked somebody, 'What do you expect me to do?' they all looked blank. They had no idea; nobody had much idea.
How can a song all about struggling with the afterglow of fame thrust someone into fame? How can a lyric like, 'I'm just a singer who already blew his shot,' give a singer another shot? I don't know... but it's funny.
I remember reading an interview that Anthony Hopkins had given about how he developed Hannibal Lecter. He said he just looked in the mirror and, I forget exactly what it was, but he looked in the mirror and realized that when he smiled, it looked creepy.
I like people who are devoted to me: men who know I'm the most fabulous thing in the world, and they just look at me with adoration. That's how my dad looked at my mom, and that's how I expected to be looked at.
Awesome! I'd just bullied Jesus into doing a shot with me. Nobody would ever believe it, but I didn't care. We ordered the insanely expensive stuff, seventy-five dollars for a 1.75-ounce pour of premium Irish whiskey, because if you're doing a shot with Jesus, you don't buy him scotch.
No," I snapped. "I mean, no. I'm answering. I'm just collecting my response." Another few seconds passed. Is there a time limit for this?" he asked. I shot him a look. "Just wondering.
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