A Quote by Steven Wright

I broke my arm trying to fold a bed. It wasn't the kind that folds. — © Steven Wright
I broke my arm trying to fold a bed. It wasn't the kind that folds.
A reporter from 'The Times' wanted to arm-wrestle, and as I recall, he kept challenging me. So we went at it, and there was a pop. His arm broke. Very strange. He went into a kind of swoon.
In April of 1976, Epic Records was flying out to sign us when I tripped over a light case after a gig and broke my arm. We called the next morning and said, 'Don't go to the airport - Bun E. broke his arm.' They thought Mercury or someone was trying to sign us, so they offered us, like, $25,000 more on top of the deal.
Either it is the fold of the infinite, or the constant folds [replis] of finitude which curve the outside and constitute the inside.
Women have hunger two-fold, shyness four-fold, daring six-fold, and lust eight-fold as compared to men.
I went dead broke - twice! - trying to get Gas Monkey up and going. And when I say broke, I mean sleeping on my sister's couch and can't pay-the-rent type broke.
So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm. . . ." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you.
I can understand how people who don't really follow baseball can look at 'dead arm' and think the absolute worst. Basically, a dead arm is when your arm kind of feels a little heavy, kind of feels weak, and basically, it's just muscular fatigue.
Here's the breakdown: alcohol dehydrates you and stimulates acid reflux. Then, when you sing on dry, irritated vocal folds, your folds swell. When your folds swell, they cause hoarseness, which makes you feel like you have to push harder to get a sound out.
Time folds you in its arms and gives you one last kiss, and then it flattens you out and folds you up and tucks you away until it's time for you to become someone else's past time, and then time folds again.
Once, when I tried to calculate the height of the balcony, I broke my arm. Another time, I wanted to see if water moves faster than kerosene. When my father came out to smoke, a fire broke out.
There's something very particular about the kind of rage you feel when you're alone in a practice room by yourself, unable to master a simple thing like a rudiment. You keep trying to master this very basic thing, and when you don't get it, you just scream. I broke a lot of drum heads, and I broke a lot of sticks.
Whenever somebody folds, say, 'Good laydown.' It encourages them to fold on a later hand because it makes them feel like you had the best hand even if you were bluffing. It's an odd form of flattery that seems to work at the poker table.
Yes, I see the Mobile Base System really is the shoulder of the arm. The arm is right there, like a human arm. It's really funny to look at the similarities between a human arm and the Canadian robotics arm.
I have a lot of money, but I still feel broke. When I say I feel broke, I don't mean broke in a financial sense, but I still feel like that kid from the gutter who's still trying to get it, even though I'm at the place I want to be.
The way the vocal folds work is that they can get inflamed and in pain, but actual tears in the folds are somewhat rare. I've never torn anything. Been too strained plenty of times.
I never had an imaginary friend, just imaginary circumstances. I was so into the Indiana Jones movies, and I would constantly reenact circumstances. I broke my left arm three times, two of which were me trying to be Indiana Jones.
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