If you get a reputation for being honest, you have 95 percent of the competition already beat.
My longings are best met when, in prayer, I simply let my heart beat in time with the Lord's.
My oldest brother and my middle brother would always beat me up and take the ball from me. I used to cry a lot, so I used to come in here and get my dad. He used to be on my team, so he used to hold them down and let me score the basket.
I don't like rock opera with back beats.
He (Jackie Robinson) was the greatest competitor I've ever seen. I've seen him beat a team with his bat, his ball, his glove, his feet and, in a game in Chicago one time, with his mouth.
For death and life, in ceaseless strife, Beat wild on this world's shore, And all our calm is in that balm— Not lost but gone before.
Allow me to add that it is my conviction that the contents of Der Stuermer as such were not (incitement). During the whole 20 years, I never wrote in this connection, 'Burn Jewish houses down; beat them to death.' Never once did such an incitement appear in Der Stuermer.
I not only weaken the opposition, I’m going to make them dead ... and if anyone is strong enough to try to hold a demonstration, I will beat all those dogs and put them in a cage.
Teenage dreams so hard to beat
Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly... Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!
Joel Lane documents a life we don’t quite live, in a city we can’t quite find: half glimpsed and half imagined, we know it’s out there somewhere. Waiting, maybe. Mixing fear with desire, reputation with regret. Touching the blood-beat of our secret hunger with the rhythms of a music that never felt alien till now. Wasted lives, with never a wasted word. It’s an extraordinary achievement: vivid as neon, real as rain. Devastating.
A writer's heart must beat. A reader's heart must hear it.
Those who say life is knocking them down and giving them a tough time are usually the first to beat themselves up. Be on your own side.
Whether youre a quarterback and you just threw a pick, or youre a corner and you just got beat for a touchdown, youve got to have a short-term memory, shake it off and play the next play.
The idea that rhythm is intrinsically human — not just primitive — that we all have hearts that beat at a steady rate and don't stop...reminds me of life itself. In that sense my music is like certain popular music where the rhythm drives from beginning to end.
As far as the work I did with Timbaland, it was his sound and I just kinda floated in his direction. I just rapped over his traditional beats.
The vast majority of psychopaths, like an iceberg, are underwater, and like an iceberg, they are inert. They do nothing. They're just there. They torment their spouse by being unempathic, but they don't beat her or kill her. They bully coworkers, but they don't burn the office. They are not dramatic. They are pernicious. Most psychopaths are subtle. They are more like poison than a knife, and they are more like slow-working poison than cyanide.
And a lot of the technique and the little T-Bone phrases that define his style, Chuck Berry, when he rearranged the beat, they became rock 'n roll guitar licks. So in essence, T-Bone was not only the first electric blues guitar player, but he was the first electric rock 'n roll guitar player, really.
If you see yourself as trying to beat the mountain, eventually the mountain will win. You don't conquer mountains, you cooperate with them.
Nothing beats a live performance. Nothing.
What a writer has to do is write what hasn't been written before or beat dead men at what they have done.
If you beat metal long enough, it turns to steel.
Remind yourself that you're bound to get better. Don't get down on yourself. Don't beat yourself up. It's the next opportunity that matters, not the last one.
If you have someone equal in ability to me I will beat him every time because I will try harder.
The muffled drum's sad roll has beat; The soldier's last tattoo; No more on Life's parade shall meet; The brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping-ground; Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round; The bivouac of the dead.
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