A Quote by Simu Liu

I was 22 years old, actually, incidentally had just been laid off from my job and I had a dog. My parents just didn't understand any of it. — © Simu Liu
I was 22 years old, actually, incidentally had just been laid off from my job and I had a dog. My parents just didn't understand any of it.
Growing up, my uncle used to always have dogs, and we always had a dog growing up. I couldn't remember a time when I never had a dog. It was part of the family. So once I actually got old enough, I got a dog in college, then I felt he needed a friend, so I got another dog. They just started adding up from there.
Ten years ago I also had a very difficult decision to make when we had (Carlo) Cudicini giving fantastic performances in Chelsea’s goal for many years. I had in my hands a 22-year-old goalkeeper I thought could be in Chelsea’s goals for years and years and years and this situation is quite similar.
When I was 14 years old, I literally just had to cut off all my ends because I was just a frizzball from the sun, like I absolutely killed my hair. So from that day on, I had leave-in conditioner stuck to me 24/7.
I started doing little amateur nights at the comedy club that was right next to the restaurant that I waitressed in when I was in university. I was probably 22 years old. I didn't do it with any intention of making a career out of it; I had just always valued comedy.
Americans are terrified because so many of them have been laid off in recent years and months and they fear that they may be next. Even if they have not been laid off or have not known anyone laid off, they definitely know someone who has lost his home.
Atul had a child from his first marriage but lost him when he was just 16 years old. His wife died 7-8 years later. He's really had a tough life. Probably these experiences have made him a more sensitive, caring and loving person... Had we been 20 years younger, we definitely would have had children.
I'm always scouring the universe for great old instruments from the '50s and early '60s. That's really, for me, the golden age of basses, when they had just been invented within 10 years of that period and they had just started to come into their own, especially the old Fender jazz basses and old Rickenbackers and Gibsons. I'm always on the lookout. It's fun.
We're no longer young men. We've lost any desire to conquer the world. We are refugees. We are fleeing from ourselves. From our lives. We were eighteen years old, and we had just begun to love the world and to love being in it; but we had to shoot at it. The first shell to land went straight for our hearts. We've been cut off from real action, from getting on, from progress. We don't believe in those things any more; we believe in the war.
An old market had stood there until I'd been about six years old, when the authorities had renamed it the Olde Market, destroyed it, and built a new market devoted to selling T-shirts and other objects with pictures of the old market. Meanwhile, the people who had operated the little stalls in the old market had gone elsewhere and set up a thing on the edge of town that was now called the New Market even though it was actually the old market.
I had no interests. I had no interest in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn’t understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn’t let me.
We had a dog, Apples. He was 13 years old, toothless, blind and had the worst breath this side of Jabba the Hut. But he was the sweetest dog, and I cried and cried when he died.
There's a design book I got years ago that had a statue of a dog with a bunch of hats on it, and I just obsessively fell in love with it. For years I searched for that dog. One day I walked into an antique shop in La Jolla and I found a white dog that I could put hats on!
I was, like, 22 years old. I had half a million dollars sitting in the bank. I had no expenses. Life was great.
My son is 22 years old. If he had not become a Communist at 22, I would have disowned him. If he is still a Communist at 30, I will do it then.
I figured out that I could think of my childhood dog that had died, and I could bring myself to tears. So I used that poor dead dog for several years until it just didn't work anymore, and I had to find something else.
Well, it might have been if I'd had success earlier in life, but having success that much later meant I was far more grounded when it came. The last few years of my life have just been surreal and after a lifetime of disappointment and heartache and rejection, I still don't believe this is all actually happening. I'm extremely grateful for my success - I just never expect it to last and my motto, if I have one, is just put your head down and do the job.
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