A Quote by Berkeley Breathed
My kids hear me behind my door, giggling like an idiot, and they roll their eyes at the blatant indignity of it all.
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My fans saw 'Roll Bounce,' but also that older crowd who might not have been familiar with me on the music tip saw 'Roll Bounce' and loved it. 'Roll Bounce' opened up that door for me to have older people love Bow Wow and opened up that door so all of the kids would love Bow Wow. My fan base is really diverse; it's all ages and all colors.
When I was 25, people used to say to me that having kids would change you, and I'd roll my eyes.
What are you doing following me around the back streets of London, you little idiot?” Will demanded, giving her arm a light shake. Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “This morning it was cariad (note: Welsh endearment, like ‘darling’ or ‘love’), now it’s idiot.
I was always aware, reading Chesterton, that there was someone writing this who rejoiced in words, who deployed them on the page as an artist deploys his paints upon his palette. Behind every Chesterton sentence there was someone painting with words, and it seemed to me that at the end of any particularly good sentence or any perfectly-put paradox, you could hear the author, somewhere behind the scenes, giggling with delight.
Promise me we'll stay together, okay? His eyes are once again the clear blue of a perfectly transparent pool. They are eyes to swim in, to float in, forever. "You and me". "I promise". I say. behind us the door creaks open, and I turn around, expecting Raven, just as a voice cuts through the air: "Don't believe her.
All the knowledge that I get, all the access that I get, I try to pass that down. And not open a door, and close it behind me. But open a door and see how many people behind me that I can pull in with me, and start showing the value of diversity, the value of having that different perspective than yours.
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 lifted my right foot to step up into the bus and collided head on with an invisible force that entered my awareness like a silently exploding stick of dynamite blowing the door of my usual consciousness open and off its hinges, splitting me in two. In the gaping space that appeared, what I had previously called "me" was forcefully pushed out of its usual location inside me into a new location that was approximately a foot behind and to the left of my head. "I" was now behind my body, looking out at the world without using the body's eyes.
Bureaucracy has murdered people in the greater New Orleans area and bureaucracy needs to stand trial before Congress today. So I'm asking Congress, please investigate this now. Take whatever idiot they have at the top of whatever agency, give me a better idiot. Give me a caring idiot. Give me a sensitive idiot. Just don't give me the same idiot.
There's periods now in our New York residence when I hear the door opening, especially the first couple of years... Anytime I hear that door opening I still think I'm gonna hear her.
The front door shut, leaving Alec sitting in the half-lit garden, alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of a face hovering behind his lids. Not Jace's face, for a change. The eyes set in the face were green, slit-pupiled. Cat eyes.
Where you think I’m goan?’ ‘Well,’ Eddie said, ‘what was behind Door Number One wasn’t so hot, and what was behind Door Number Two was even worse, so now, instead of quitting like sane people, we’re going to go right on ahead and check out Door Number Three. The way things have been going, I think it’s likely to be something like Godzilla or Ghidra the Three-Headed Monster, but I’m an optimist. I’m still hoping for the stainless steel cookware.
But then you hear that he can't hear you, you see that he can't see you. You are not here--and you haven't even died yet. You see yourself through his eyes, as The Generic Woman, the skirted symbol on the ladies' room door.
Unlike my mother, my father does not cry quietly. His wails roll out like a wave of pain, and I scramble to roll up my window. My mother cannot hear that. I cannot bear to hear it myself. I am not used to my father's crying. I've had no time to harden my heart against him.
All these kids who are growing up on Skrillex and all this digital music- what are they gonna think when they hear rock'n'roll?
Suppose you're on a game show, and you're given the choice of three doors. Behind one door is a car, the others, goats. You pick a door, say #1, and the host, who knows what's behind the doors, opens another door, say #3, which has a goat. He says to you: 'Do you want to pick door #2?' Is it to your advantage to switch your choice of doors?
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