A Quote by Stephen King

Whenever I publish a book, I feel like a trapper caught by the Iroquois. They're all lined up with Tomahawks, and the idea is to run through with your head down, and everybody gets to take a swing. They hit you in the head, the back, the ass, and the balls.
As the skipping rope hit the pavement, so did the ball. As the rope curved over the head of the jumping child, the child with the ball caught the ball. Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers
In low comedy, a character gets hit in the head, and you don't really believe it. In farce, he's hit in the head, but he must be hit in the head. The character requires it.
Herman Melville said that artists have to take a dive and either you hit your head on a rock and you split your skull and you die … or that blow to the head is so inspiring that you come back and do the best work that you ever did. BUT you have to take the dive and you do not know what the results will be.
I feel like as a linebacker or a D-lineman, any cut, it's a man sport -- be a man, hit me up high, Hit like rams. You don't see a ram going and cutting another ram's legs. They hit head to head, pad to pad.
Hit a home run - put your head down, drop the bat, run around the bases, because the name on the front is more - a lot more important than the name on the back.
When I was 10 years old, we'd pick out a cow and boom! They'd hit it in the head with a hammer, lift it up by the back legs, and skin it in front of us. Then I'd take the head home and make soup
The ball comes into the box and you have no idea how it is going to fall. You cannot have thoughts in your head, like, 'It is on my left, I am not going to hit it.' You just have to take it in your stride and hit the target. That is exactly what I try to do.
In business, you take a swing and you hope that you hit a home run, but sometimes you strike out. Strikeouts and failures are important. Being down, getting punched in the gut every once in a while by life and coming back up, that's accomplishment.
Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. [. . . ] You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head!
yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut
Swing your swing. Not some idea of a swing. Not a swing you saw on TV. Not that swing you wish you had. No, swing your swing. Capable of greatness. Prized only by you. Perfect in it's imperfection. Swing your swing. I know, I did.
He snorted and hit me in the solar plexus. I bent over and took hold of the room with both hands and spun it. When I had it nicely spinning I gave it a full swing and hit myself on the back of the head with the floor.
The thing I'm always trying to do when I write is hit that sweet spot where the book both keeps you up late at night, and yet a week after you've finished, it still pops back into your head.
Obviously, being a first baseman, you're kind of expected to hit some home runs. Obviously, that goes into your head; it gets into my head a little bit.
All the pins stuck in my head from the wig. I would set off a metal detector. And you know when your head gets really itchy? So when the wig gets put on at like 5:30, 6 A.M., and you can't take it off until 7 P.M. - I won't miss all the pins scratching against my scalp.
How to hit home runs: I swing as hard as I can, and I try to swing right through the ball... The harder you grip the bat, the more you can swing it through the ball, and the farther the ball will go. I swing big, with everything I've got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can.
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