A Quote by Vince Gill

I mean, look at her. Any idiot, you know, would quite taken with Amy. — © Vince Gill
I mean, look at her. Any idiot, you know, would quite taken with Amy.
Nobody tells her to shut up. It would be pointless. Amy has a large heart and an even larger mouth. When it rains, Amy rescues worms off the sidewalk. When you get tired of having a secret, you tell Amy. Understand: Amy isn't that much stupider than anyone else in the story. It's just that she thinks out loud.
Fletcher appeared beside her. He peered at the baby. "Can it do any tricks yet?" "I'm still working on it. Want to hold her?" "God, no," Fletcher said laughing. "I'd drop it." "It's not an it, it's my baby sister. Go on, hold her. You won't make a mess of it, i swear. Only an idiot could drop a baby." "You always say I am an idiot." "But you're a special kind of idiot. Here." She passed Alice into his arms, and he stood there, rigid, a look of intense concentration on his face.
And Myrnin seemed quite taken with that, Claire thought; she’d never seen him look at anyone with quite that much admiration. It surprised her that it made her feel a little … what was that? Jealous? Couldn’t be.
Amy Winehouse's mother wrote an open letter to the News of the World newspaper telling Amy she's worried about her and to please call her. I doubt this is the best way to communicate with Amy - she should try spelling it out in lines of cocaine.
You should climb around inside my brain, Dan. It's like this dark room surrounded by quicksand." "I know what you mean," her brother said quietly. "I hate being in my brain sometimes. I have to get out." "What do you do?" Amy asked. Dan shrugged "I go to other places. My toes. My shoulders. But mostly here." He tapped his chest and immediately reddened. "I know. It's stupid." "Not really," Amy said. "I wish I could do that, too.
On top of all that, look at this guy? I mean he's a idiot, he's 7 feet of pure idiot. You put his brain in a parakeet... zing! It'll fly backwards.
I don't know if I'm particularly funny, I mean one of my legs is shorter than the other one, it makes everything look very awkward, so I can just pretty much look like an idiot, but I don't know whether I can be like witty. It could be a problem.
Man, Amy Ryan. I have geeked out so hard for her - to her face! There aren't a lot of people that can cross those lines of drama and comedy so seamlessly as Amy Ryan.
I have a love/hate relationship with Amy Grant, but I do go back to her Christmas albums once in a while. They're dated and sentimental and the production is nearly unlistenable, but there's something about her vocal performance that just feels really true. I would take her Christmas albums over Mariah Carey's or Destiny's Child's any day.
Purple light passed over the paper, but nothing happened. "Next!" Amy said. She was sure the man in black was going to burst in on them any second. "Whoa!" Dan said. Amy gripped his arm. "You found it?" "No, but look! This whole essay - 'To the Royal Academy.' He wrote a whole essay on farts!" Dan grinned with delight. "He's proposing a scientific study on different fart smells. You're right, Amy. This guy was a genius!
Amy adored both the new look and the new person it allowed her to be. Following the photo shoot, she wore her bruises to the dry cleaner and the grocery store. Most people nervously looked away, but on the rare occasions someone would ask what happened, my sister would smile as brightly as possible, saying, 'I'm in love. Can you believe it? I'm finally, totally in love, and I feel great.
I would think somebody like Jane Fonda and her idiot husband would be terribly ashamed and saddened that they were a part of causing us to stop helping the South Vietnamese. Now look what's happening. They're getting killed by the millions. Murdered by the millions. How the hell can she and her husband sleep at night?
I would have thought even a certified idiot like Gabriel here would have taken account of it and notified someone." "Notified who?" asked Jem, not unreasonably. He had moved closer to Tessa as the conversation had continued. As they stood side by side, the backs of their hands brushed. "The Clave. The postman. Us. Anyone," said Will, shooting an irritated look at Gabriel, who was starting to get some color back and looked furious. "I am not a certified idiot—" "Lack of certification hardly proves intelligence," Will muttered.
So when I was working with Amy Winehouse on "Back To Black," you know, she had all these beautiful songs, incredibly well-written and just her on an acoustic, nylon-string guitar. And she'd play them for me, and then I would kind of drum up my idea of what I thought - make a demo with what I thought the drums should be doing, the guitars - like, quite a crude demo.
My God! So sad to hear about Amy Winehouse! My deepest condolences to her friends and family and fans. You will be missed Amy xoxox
People always think I'm Amy Poehler, which never bothers me. I mean, Amy Poehler is great.
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