I used to tiptoe up to my bedroom door and leap into my room in an attempt to surprise my dolls in the midst of some kind of action. Unfortunately, they were always too quick for me. I'm still disappointed about that.
It is no accident that stock exchange floors - in addition to bedroom floors - bring out the noisy blood, the flushed cheek, and the passionate cries of men. Most men are making love when they make 'magical' amounts of money.
I have enough music coming out of my kids' bedrooms when I'm at home.
Keeping a diary is like closing your bedroom door and refusing to come out until dinnertime: it is a declaration of self.
[On the 1982 intruder into her bedroom:] I realized immediately that it wasn't a servant because they don't slam doors.
I filmed my first little Super 8 movie by stealing my mum's Super 8 camera where I set some fires to some of the models, which actually caught the drapes of my bedroom on fire! The fire department came. I was grounded for three weeks and it was my very first movie.
Most people learn to improvise on their own, listening to records, endless hours of noodling on their instrument in the bedroom with all their spare time. That's traditionally how people learn.
I've loved singing since forever. Whether it was with my sisters while cleaning the kitchen, putting shows on for my stuffed animals, writing songs about my stuffed animals, starting an a capella group with my cousins while on vacation, or awkwardly singing along to karaoke tracks alone in my bedroom - singing always found a way into my life.
At school, there was an annual school disco and I'd be standing in my bedroom wondering what to wear for hours on end. Eventually I'd arrive at a decision that was just the most ridiculous costume you could have ever devised - I think it was probably knitted Christmas jumpers on top of buttoned-up white shirts.
Unfortunately, when you're an actor you have to act. It's not like you can sit in your living room, your bedroom, your study or whatever and act with yourself. It requires having somebody to respond to.
My personal view is very simple: What happens in your bedroom, it's up to you. If you want to use gay marriage as an affectionate kind of thing you're doing, do it.
I recently adopted for my own a good motto I saw somewhere, on a barroom mirror or possibly a washroom wall: 'The time you enjoyed wasting wasn't wasted.' I think I'll have that printed some day on a T-shirt or the bedroom ceiling.
The rum fiend would like to go and hang up a skeleton in your beautiful house so that, when you opened the front door to go in, you would see it in the hall; and, when you sat at your table you would see it hanging from the wall; and, when you opened your bedroom you would find it stretched upon your pillow; and, waking at night, you would feel its cold hand passing over your face and pinching at your heart. There is no home so beautiful but it may be devastated by the awful curse.
I have tried a little kinky stuff. A woman called me and said, 'I have mirrors all over my bedroom. Bring a bottle.' I brought Windex.
A writer is in danger of allowing his talent to dull who lets more than a year go past without finding himself in his rightful place of composition, the small single unluxurious retreat of the twentieth century, the hotel bedroom.
Sleeping with your phone in your bedroom is never a good idea, but it's even worse when you're bullied online because it's too tempting to stay up all night trying to "fix" the situation - which isn't possible anyway.
My twerking skills are for the bedroom, not for the club.
If I ever saw magic on television I would say: 'I want that. That's what I want from Santa Claus'. So the cupboard in my bedroom was full of boxes of magic tricks, cups and balls, cards and foam rabbits, all sorts of stuff.
When I was 10, 11, 12 years old, I would pretend to be on the radio. I bought a mixer and these big, ugly headphones and I would literally broadcast the cassette tapes in my bedroom.
I don't want to look old and worn, but what can you do? My real focus is being an actor. I care more about having the opportunity to play roles that I haven't played than I care if my neck looks like someone's bedroom curtains.
Mind you, I'm going into the bedroom now to talk things over with Heavenly Father
She tapped on the window with her embossed hairbrush. They were too far off to hear. The drone of the trees was in their ears; the chirp of birds; other incidents of garden life, inaudible, invisible to her in the bedroom, absorbed them. Isolated on a green island, hedged about with snowdrops, laid with a counterpane of puckered silk, the innocent island floated under her window. Only George lagged behind.
I remember attaching a wire clothing hanger to the antenna of my radio in my bedroom, so I could get the frequency and get that station and listen to the top 10 every night.
I'd always want to decorate my bedroom. I needed visuals and to be stimulated by things. I'm still like that. It's the way I see the world.
Confronted by a Church that has ceased to manifest God's mercy and intimate connection with humankind - that has converted Christ into a grim and joyless adjunct to the policing of bedrooms and marital intercourse - men and women can no longer see themselves as beloved of God, only as impure and reprehensible.
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