A Quote by Lee Trevino

I have an orthopedic pillow that's made out of a sponge material. I have a plate in my throat, and I have to be careful or I could end up with a bad neck in the morning. That pillow is a must everywhere I go.
Your pillow alone may be home to 40 million bed mites. (To them your head is just one large oily bon-bon). And don't think a clean pillow-case will make a difference... Indeed, if your pillow is six years old--which is apparently about the average age for a pillow--it has been estimated that one-tenth of its weight will be made up of sloughed skin, living mites, dead mites and mite dung.
If you want to know how far gossip travels, do this - take a feather pillow up on a roof, slice it open, and let the feathers fly away on the wind. Then go and find every single feather and re-stuff the pillow.
If you want to know how far gossip travels, do this - take a feather pillow up on a roof, slice it open, and let the feathers fly away on the wind. Then go and find every single feather and re-stuff the pillow.
When I fly, I never check my bags. I bring a carry-on, an eye pillow, noise-canceling headphones, a big pillow and a blanket.
Man versus woman equals fun. Man versus man equals gay. Woman versus woman equals awesome. Man versus pillow equals crazy. Pillow versus pillow equals crazy awesome - that's a real pillow fight right there. You see two pillows fighting, you know something's going down. They're designed for relaxation. If they're fighting, what hope do we have? One time I saw two geese fighting, and I was like, 'This is a pillow fight ahead of time.
If you ever need a pillow, I can make you a pillow.
I build an entire fort out of pillows. I need at least four pillows. I need on each side, I need one normal usage pillow for the back of my head, and I need another pillow just in case.
Are you angry? Punch a pillow. Was it satisfying? Not hardly. These days people are too angry for punching. What you might try is stabbing. Take an old pillow and lay it on the front lawn. Stab it with a big pointy knife. Again and again and again. Stab hard enough for the point of the knife to go into the ground. Stab until the pillow is gone and you are just stabbing the earth again and again, as if you want to kill it for continuing to spin, as if you are getting revenge for having to live on this planet day after day, alone.
Politics is like waking up in the morning. You never know whose head you'll find on the pillow.
When I was a kid, we would build pillow forts. My pillow fort was always like Ice Station 9 in Antarctica. The other kids would come by and be like, 'Oh! The wind and snow is blowing.' From a young age, I wanted to be out there and surviving. I'm a high-strung, hyperactive guy.
My most prized possession is my pillow. I can't travel or sleep without it. And it's, like, this really thin down pillow that really doesn't do anything, but it's weird: if I don't have it, I'm constantly thinking about not having it.
From the moment we wake up each morning to the time we hit the pillow at night, we hear what people have to say, but are we really listening?
In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York is in heavy boots.
She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead.
You're not too good for the sleep mask-neck pillow combo! You're not too cool for it!
The whole material world. It doesn't actually exist. Matter is not material. It's made up of atoms that are moving at lightning speeds around huge empty spaces. So as you go beyond the appearance of molecules, you end up with a subatomic world, and if you go beyond that you end up with nothing. Nothing is the source of everything.
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