A Quote by Stone Cold Steve Austin
When that glass broke and 'Stone Cold' was making an entrance, and that roof blew off that building, that sends you higher than life or anything that I know of. It's an adrenaline rush you can't explain.
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When I was studying interior architecture, and playing around with glass because I really liked glass. There was one night when I blew a bubble and put a pipe into this glass I had melted and blew a bubble. From that moment, I wanted to be a glassblower.
There's such an adrenaline rush for me on stage and having all these people look at you. There's an adrenaline rush from not having things written down, too.
I always really enjoyed Edge's entrance theme. Also Stone Cold. WWE once asked me in an interview, if I had to change my entrance music, whose would I choose, and I said Edge. So they created a video of me using that song, and I was like, 'I'm in love.'
You know what I liked about 'The Condemned?' It's Stone Cold being Stone Cold, and that's what was awesome to me.
At the entrance to the original tower, there is a stone into which Jung carved some words with his own hand: 'Cold or not, God is present.
So, I looked up, and we were in this giant dome like a glass snowball, and Mark said that the amazing white stars were really only holes in the black glass of the dome, and when you went to heaven, the glass broke away, and there was nothing but a whole sheet of star white, which is brighter than anything but doesn't hurt your eyes. It was vast and open and thinly quiet, and I felt so small.
A sudden gust of rain blew over them and then another - as if small liquid clouds were bouncing along the land. Lightning entered the sea far off and the air blew full of crackling thunder. The table cloths blew around the pillars. They blew and blew and blew. The flags twisted around the red chairs like live things, the banners were ragged, the corners of the table tore off through the burbling billowing ends of the cloths.
The energy of the crowd is insane. Twenty thousand people. It's the biggest jolt of adrenaline. It's very hard to explain. You know the old story about the woman lifting the car off her kid? It's in that realm. You can actually hurt yourself and not know it.
Ten thousand pounds is the legal value of a negligently taken life, of a child or a parent. A cold and somewhat mean-spirited calculation: you would do better if you slipped on a paving-stone and broke a front tooth.
I'm an adrenaline junkie, I won't deny it. I'm not addicted to anything in life, except adrenaline.
I don't live as 'Stone Cold.' I live as Steve Austin. I was 'Stone Cold' Steve Austin back in 2003, then I rode off into the sunset.
Countries keep on building higher and higher buildings, instead of building higher and higher men!
If you're throwing someone off a roof, you're throwing them off the roof. It's there. You don't have to do anything extra with that. The audience is obviously going to react to that because it's such a heightened thing to do. But in the other moments, you really look for ways to craft those, because they're more important, honestly.
To enter into the realm of contemplation one must in a certain sense die: but this death is in fact the entrance to a higher life. It is a death for the sake of life, which leaves behind all that we can know or treasure as life, as thought, as experience, as joy, as being.
You feel a certain way in a glass or concrete or limestone building. It has an effect on your skin - the same with plywood or veneer, or solid timber. Wood doesn't steal energy from your body the way glass and concrete steal heat. When it's hot, a wood house feels cooler than a concrete one, and when it's cold, the other way around.
On the mainland, a rain was falling. The famous Seattle rain. The thin, gray rain that toadstools love. The persistent rain that knows every hidden entrance into collar and shopping bag. The quiet rain that can rust a tin roof without the tin roof making a sound in protest. The shamanic rain that feeds the imagination. The rain that seems actually a secret language, whispering, like the ecstasy of primitives, of the essence of things.
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