A Quote by Stephen Hendry

Maybe I wish I could be out there on the big occasions playing like I did at my peak, but I certainly don't miss the six and seven hours a day practice that went hand in hand with being world champion in the nineties - or losing to guys knowing that it would never have happened when I was at my best.
I grew up playing the guitar. I started when I was nine, and by the time I was nine and a half or ten, I was doing seven or eight hours' practice every day. I did two hours' practice at six o'clock in the morning before I went to school, and another two hours as soon as I got home from school in the afternoon. Then I did four hours at night before I went to bed. I did that until I was fourteen or fifteen.
You know, on the road, I never miss a meal. I eat five, six, seven times a day, depending on when I wake up and when I got to sleep. I never miss a training day. I always get my four days out of my seven.
I miss playing baseball. Just being able to swing the bat, or run, or dive for a ball, or slide into second. If I could even do that in a softball league, I would never miss anything about baseball. I don't miss the crowds or the travel or even being in the big leagues. I just miss being able to take batting practice and being able to swing as hard as I can. That's all I miss.
John Kerry tried to work with the Russians on Syria, and the man was honorable, because he was trying to do the right thing, and frankly, playing a very weak hand, a hand that was weak not because of him, okay. He did the best he could, but I will say this to his enormous credit: he never offered a dirty deal. You can have Ukraine if you only help us out on Syria. Never - he never did that.
It is true - maybe with five or seven points more, I could be five times world champion. But on the other hand, I could have zero world championships, and zero wins or zero podiums, because F1 is an extremely competitive environment. So I just take the positives, and I am happy with my achievements.
There's a big difference between me and a real, legitimate working hand, or a world-champion rodeo cowboy. I play 'em, and I aspire to be like that, but those guys are tough.
I just practice. I do six hours of practice everyday. I set to teach myself the trumpet they all said I would never play. I put the organ in my music, like if you listen to my work Day By Day, which got me my second Grammy nomination.
You could easily tell that hardwork and perseverance go hand in hand with patience. We often hear people say patience is worth it, yet we don't practice it. I did and look how well it worked out for me.
I'm big into video games, and when I joined FAZE clan, they're big into streaming. And they're streaming every day, like, six, seven hours a day.
Since I've been home-schooled since sixth grade, I've practiced six to seven hours a day. I wake up, practice for three hours in the morning, eat lunch, and then go out and play eighteen or more holes.
maybe god is a child ‘s hand)very carefully bring -ing to you and to me(and quite with out crushing)the papery weightless diminutive world with a hole in it out of which demons with wings would be streaming if something had(maybe they couldn’t agree)not happened(and floating- ly int o
Now, everybody knows the basic erogenous zones. You got one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. ... OK, now most guys will hit one, two, three and then go to seven and set up camp. ... You want to hit 'em all and you wanna mix 'em up. You gotta keep 'em on their toes. ... You could start out with a little one. A two. A one, two, three. A three. A five. A four. A three, two. Two. A two, four, six. Two, four, six. Four. Two. Two. Four, seven! Five, seven! Six, seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! [holds up seven fingers]
I would never want to reach out someday with a soft, uncallused hand-a hand never dirtied by serving-and shake the nail-pierced hand of Jesus.
I miss the silliness of the Nineties. What would society be like if 9/11 never happened? If that silliness was extended forever?
She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
If I was a boy, nobody would care that I worked out six, seven hours a day when I was 9 years old, no? Why were people always saying 'poor little girl?' I liked to work out and always did more than I was asked to.
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