From my observation, the older you get, the more you like the word cozy.
That's why most of the elderly wear pants with elastic waistbands. If they wear pants at all. This may explain why grandparents are in love with buying grand kids pajamas and bathrobes.
A true Christian is a man who never for a moment forgets what God has done for him in Christ and whose whole comportment and whose activity have their root in the sentiment of gratitude.
When we root-root-root for the home team, we're rooting for our home as much as the team.
Enjoy the elastic present, which can accommodate as little or as much as you want to put in there. Stretch it out, live inside of it.
Our team is good at getting dressed real quick, because we're the type of team that wears their uniforms all day.
Reality can be elastic, and I want to see how elastic it can be, you know?
To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning.
You never compete with the people in your crew; you have your own team. Competition is only with those people whose film is releasing alongside on Friday and never with one's own team.
People don't want to just root for a team anymore. They want to root for something more.
If a jayvee team puts on Lakers uniforms, that doesn't make them Kobe Bryant.
I wanna make uniforms for my high school basketball team through brand Yeezy.
Once you own a team for as many years as I have, and you root for that team for that period of time, you've got rooting for the Blazers in your blood, and the Sonics are one of our arch-competitors.
The main part of the tree is the root, and the root is always beneath the ground. It never is brought out into the light.
The thing about those conditions [anxiety and depression] that sucks the worst is that you don't address the root cause, so you never see it coming. What's worse is when you don't even KNOW what the root cause is, you can never fix the problem. So that's what's really scary.
I have never really thought of him as a person, either.... A guy whose strings were broken, who didn’t feel the root of his leaves of grass connected to the field, a guy who was cracked. Like me.
Baseball is a game of race, creed, and color. The race is to first base. The creed is the rules of the game. The color? Well, the home team wears white uniforms, and the visiting team wears gray.