A Quote by Tika Sumpter

I live by myself. I come in the door, I can throw my stuff on the floor. I can leave the dishes. — © Tika Sumpter
I live by myself. I come in the door, I can throw my stuff on the floor. I can leave the dishes.
If you have to dry the dishes (Such an awful boring chore) If you have to dry the dishes ('Stead of going to the store) If you have to dry the dishes And you drop one on the floor Maybe they won't let you Dry the dishes anymore
My daughter has a problem picking things up in her room. So if you leave your clothes on the floor, so if you leave your clothes on the floor, they're gone when you come home.
I cherish my clothes and I remember what seasons they're from. But someone said to me as I was having trouble with styling a dress that I had bought, and he said to me: "Throw it on the floor." And I was like, "What? It's like a gown." He goes, "Throw it on the floor," and I did, and he's like that's how you need to wear everything. You wear clothes like you throw them on the floor.
I do chores around the house, but I don't get an allowance for them. I wash the dishes and sweep the floor... I'm sweeping the floor quite a lot, and my mum always expects me to get a broom and swagger it across the floor all the time.
My parents said that I was nine months old and would throw myself out of the crib onto the floor continually. As soon as they left the room after putting me back in they'd hear a big bump and I'd be on the floor again.
And Max, I've put some scraps in a bowl for your dog," Mom said. "It's on the floor, by the back door." The flock and I went still. Uh-oh, I thought. Total stomped up to me, his glare accusing. "A bowl on the floor!" he seethed. "Why don't you just chain me to a stake in the yard and throw me a bone!
Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.
But also... well, you and I will both be Lissa's gaurdians someday. I need to protect her at all cost. If a pack of Strogoi come, I need to throw my body between them and her." "I know that. Of course that's what you have to do." The black sparkles were dancing in front of my eyes again. I was fading out. "No. If I let myself love you, I won't throw myself in front of her. I'll throw myself in front of you.
Messy stuff irritates me. I don't like messiness. If you leave something around my house, I'll tell you to move it back, clean it up, throw it in the trash - don't matter, just get rid of it. I need stuff neat, organized. And once I start cleaning stuff, I don't stop until it's done. Otherwise I'm irritated all day.
It's not sufficient in the internet age to communicate through the media; you have to be able to do it on the ground, door by door, coffee shop by coffee shop, shop floor by shop floor. You really have to do that as well.
When God gives you a door, if you want access, you go through that door. People didn't like Jesus. Oh, they had all kind of reasons to hate him but Jesus said, "I am the door. Any man who enters must come by me. If you don't come by me," he said, "you're a thief and a robber." Well, if Omarosa Manigault is the door to Donald Trump, well I kind of like that door. That's a pretty door. That's an intelligent door. That's a spiritually rooted door.
I sort of have the belief that you work being your character out while you're working on it, or that's been my experience so far. I throw myself into it 100% and try to live in that world, and then when it's over, just sort of be able to leave it behind.
Leave your front door and your back door open. Allow your thoughts to come and go. Just don't serve them tea.
The deal is such that when I begin writing something, I open a door, and those characters come in, and then they won't leave, and so I live with them every day, all day. They are there with me when I'm driving my kids to school, when I'm standing in line at the grocery store.
The trace I leave to me means at once my death, to come or already come, and the hope that it will survive me. It is not an ambition of immortality; it is fundamental. I leave here a bit of paper, I leave, I die; it is impossible to exit this structure; it is the unchanging form of my life. Every time I let something go, I live my death in writing.
The repressed memory is like a noisy intruder being thrown out of the concert hall. You can throw him out, but he will bang on the door and continue to disturb the concert. The analyst opens the door and says, If you promise to behave yourself, you can come back in.
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