A Quote by Waylon Jennings

I say, Lord, do right be me, I'm tired of being lonesome, on'ry, and mean. — © Waylon Jennings
I say, Lord, do right be me, I'm tired of being lonesome, on'ry, and mean.
Lonesome. Lonesome. I know what it means. Here all by my lonesome, dreaming empty dreams. Weary. Weary at the close of day, wondering if tomorrow brings me joy or sorrow.
"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.
You cannot say, 'No, Lord,' and mean both words; one annuls the other. If you say no to Him, then He is not your Lord.
My students tell me, we don't want to love! We're tired of being loving! And I say to them, if you're tired of being loving, then you haven't really been loving, because when you are loving you have more strength.
The American people, I think, are tired of being told. They're tired of being told this is as good as it gets. They're tired of being told, like Ronald Reagan used to say, that little intellectual elite in a far distant capital can plan our lives better for us than we can plan them for ourselves.
They're such different things [Townies and Lonesome Dove]. I certainly love them both. Certainly Lonesome Dove would be way hard now, because, I mean, back then I wasn't married.
[People] are tired of looking at what happens, they are tired of us having our... let's say finest and brightest not being involved in the most important decisions, and being someplace else.
The southern white Baptists now want to integrate with the black Baptist church. I say that would be the end of it. In the first place, most white southern Baptists can't preach, their intentions are not that good and we make a different joyful noise unto the Lord than white people. When we say, "Lord Jesus, personal savior", we may not mean the same thing as what they mean.
People always say that I didn't give up my seat because I was tired, but that isn't true. I was not tired physically... No, the only tired I was, was tired of giving in.
These days I just can't seem to say what I mean [...]. I just can't. Every time I try to say something, it misses the point. Either that or I end up saying the opposite of what I mean. The more I try to get it right the more mixed up it gets. Sometimes I can't even remember what I was trying to say in the first place. It's like my body's split in two and one of me is chasing the other me around a big pillar. We're running circles around it. The other me has the right words, but I can never catch her.
The first thing I think about when I wake up most mornings is the fact that I'm tired. I have been tired for decades. I am tired in the morning and I am tired while becalmed in the slough of the afternoon, and I am tired in the evening, except right when I try to go to sleep.
I think people are tired of politics as usual. We're tired of everything being scripted; we're tired of every comment being politically correct.
When little ones say they want to go home, they almost never mean it. They mean they are tired of this particular game and would like to start another.
Dialysis is horrible and left me so tired. I couldn't do it any more, it takes so much out of you. By the end I was tired of being tired. I could sleep 11, 12 or 13 hours a day and still be absolutely knackered.
We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — "Yes, that’s the way it is, or at least that’s the way I feel it. You’re not as alone as you thought."
Dear Complete and Utter Stranger, The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal? Say you would even think about eating the oatmeal? Well, JUST DON'T BOTHER WRITING TO ME, OKAY?
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