A Quote by Solomon Burke
I didn't do the marching down the streets, jumping in front of the lines and holding hands... that wasn't me.
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There are times when friendship feels like running down a hill together as fast as you can, jumping over things, spinning around, and you don't care where you're going, and you don't care where you've come from, because all that matters is speed, and the hands holding your hands.
It doesn't matter where we are. We can be marching down the streets of New Orleans, or we can be onstage in front of 15,000 people. As long as I know that I'm about to put my horn to my mouth and play some notes, that's what I most look forward to.
Will remembered the two of them, running through the dark streets of London, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, seraph blades gleaming in their hands; hours in the training room, shoving each other into mud puddles, throwing snowballs at Jessamine from behind an ice fort in the courtyard, asleep like puppies on the rug in front of the fire.
When I see gay people holding hands or kissing in the streets, I just don't think that's right.
Gradually I became aware of details: a company of French soldiers was marching through the streets of the town. They broke formation, and went in single file along the communication trench leading to the front line. Another group followed them.
I'm marching for women; I'm marching for the LGBT community. I'm marching for immigrants. I happen to fall into all three categories, so I'm marching for myself at the end of the day and for my family and my friends. And for whoever else deserves it.
I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before.
I don't kid myself in thinking that I'm on the front lines. I know the people who are on the front lines. I mean there are people in some freakin' significant places making on-the-ground social front line change. I've marched. I've put feet on the ground for what I believe and what I'm against with no compromise. And there are people who are risking a whole hell of a lot more than me to make change, that's for damn sure.
I was on the front lines in the Cold War, and I was on the front lines in the fight against Al Qaeda.
I used to love jumping into the bushes in my back garden, thinking I was jumping into the crowd after I scored in front of the Holte End.
Marching diverts man's thoughts. Marching kills thoughts. Marching makes an end of individuality. Marching is the indispensable magic stroke performed in order to accustom people to a mechanical, quasi-ritualistic activity until it becomes second nature.
On Death Valley, I fought this werewolf, and he was picking me up and slamming me down. They put padding down in the garbage so he could really slam me down. They're flying around and I'm doing these jumping flying triangles pulling the guy down. It's just fun.
On 'Death Valley,' I fought this werewolf, and he was picking me up and slamming me down. They put padding down in the garbage so he could really slam me down. They're flying around and I'm doing these jumping flying triangles pulling the guy down. It's just fun.
I was an energetic child, always walking on my hands, flipping off of the back of the couch, or jumping up and down on my bed.
Social mores change all the time. In the mid-1970s, it would've been astonishing, say, to see two men holding hands in the streets. And the attitude to having a fling with a girl, or whatever, was quite different then.
But when I’m jumping, it’s as if my feelings are going upward to the sky. Really, my urge to be swallowed up by the sky is enough to make my heart quiver. When I’m jumping, I can feel my body parts really well, too—my bounding legs and my clapping hands—and that makes me feel so, so good.
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