A Quote by Sid Waddell

I talk fast because I'm asthmatic, and I'm desperately hoping the words get out before my breath fails. — © Sid Waddell
I talk fast because I'm asthmatic, and I'm desperately hoping the words get out before my breath fails.
It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.
I've spent most of my life and most of my friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they won't leave, and fearing that it's a matter of time before they figure me out and go.
Well, you know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly; you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you've been disappointed so often before.
She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath, and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me. Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me. It's Primrose Everdeen.
You can build a brand very fast now, especially with bloggers and how fast images can get out - the message just goes out faster and stronger than ever before.
It's unbelievable I'm swimming so fast. I went in with no expectations. I just went out hoping to get a personal best. I went out there with a smile, just to have fun and see what would happen.
To desperately hope," I whispered James let out a breath. "To gratefully believe.
Today the earth is populated with billions of people desperately hoping to “get somewhere,” but having no idea of where they’re going.
And if candor strikes to forcefully, step back, draw careful breath, and consider the angle your words must take before you open your mouth, let them leak out. Because once you tilt the truth, it becomes a lie.
I walk so fast, I talk so fast, I could turn the light off and be in bed before the room's dark.
They had the music being piped right out on the street. I'd be three or four blocks from there and I couldn't get there fast enough because I'd hear old Joe holler them words.
Words and music equally important. But the way to get what I'm looking for is different in each case. I have something specific I'm hoping for with the words and the music, and the way to get the words the way I like them is to take a long time, and the way to get the music I like it is to not let me or anyone else get in the way of it.
Language just gradually came in, one or two stressed words a time. Before then, I would just scream. I couldn't talk. I couldn't get my words out. So the only way I could tell someone what I wanted was to scream. If I didn't want to wear a hat, the only way I knew to communicate was screaming and throwing it on the floor.
I'm an asthmatic so if you want to ask someone about asthma, ask a doctor. I'm asthmatic but I'm not an expert on it.
Because I talk too fast and I start stuffing up my words, I start mumbling and stuttering. I just have to remember to slow down.
I started writing songs before I could talk - at three or four. It was in me, and I had to get it out. It was all freestyle, which is how I write anyway. I don't write the words down; I scat and come up with the melody, then the lyrics.
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