A Quote by Mason Cooley

Something is sticking out its tongue at me from the corner of my mirror. — © Mason Cooley
Something is sticking out its tongue at me from the corner of my mirror.
I'm sticking my tongue out in scenes to try to make that work in 3D. I'm thinking I'll try to get my tongue all the way out to the second row of the audience.
In football you never know what's around the corner, but by sticking together - directors, management, players and fans - we can look to do something.
I am an entrepreneur in the classic mold. No matter what I do - outside of sticking my tongue out - I tend to make money, and quite a bit in non-KISS stuff.
The camera is not merely a reflecting pool and the photographs are not exactly the mirror, mirror on the wall that speaks with a twisted tongue.
I used to stand on the corner in San Diego with poems sticking out of my hip pocket, asking people if there was a place where I could read poems. The audience is half of the poem.
I hate it [driving] more than anything in the whole world. I'm just an awful, awful driver. I get lost, I hit things (parked cars, one moving car, a pole in my parking garage). Just when I think I got everything under control, I'll miss seeing something out of the corner of my mirror.
Don't you think it's something strange that you rarely look at yourself in the mirror, except to do things like stand and ponder? I mean, in Shakespeare's day, it was thought that the mirror would reveal something, that it is trying to tell you something - not just to tidy your hair, but something more.
I do fear for the generations of people who came of age thinking that pop-punk is what punk is, and that all the rebellion you need is just to stick your tongue out in the mirror every once in a while.
My dad wanted me to go down a more academic route. He is very much about sticking to the rule book and sticking to the blueprint of a successful career.
but that mimosa grove - the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since." "this then is my story. i have reread it. it has bits of marrow sticking to it, and blood, and beautiful bright-green flies. at this or that twist of it i feel my slippery self eluding me, gliding into deeper and darker waters than i care to probe.
There's something to be said for perseverance. We've been sticking it out a long time.
People are always calling me a mirror and if a mirror looks into a mirror, what is there to see?
The spookiest thing for me is when I think I see something, and then nothing is there. I always imagine I see something, or I'll catch movement out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is really there.
Science is the tongue in the mouth of the Universe; it is destined to know every little corner of the cosmos.
She looks up at me with those vulnerable eyes. “What if it means something?” She asks. “What if it does?” “Promise me it won’t mean anything.” I lean my head back on the couch. “It won’t mean anythin’.” Aren’t I supposed to be the guy in this scenario, laying down the no-commitment rules? “And no tongue,” she adds. “Mi vida, if I kiss you, I guarantee there’s gonna be tongue.
My mom decided that she wanted to put the mirror ball trophy on the coffee table in the center of our living room. When people walk in, it's kind of like, 'Uh.' It's a little weird. Maybe we should put it in the corner or something.
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