If I was gay, I would think hip-hop hates me. Have you read the YouTube comments lately? 'Man, that's gay' gets dropped on the daily.
Depend upon it, it is God's Word, not our comment upon God's Word, that saves souls.
I promoted myself on Twitter and Facebook as hard as possible, nonstop. People started realizing that if they commented on my videos, I'd reply to their comment, so I started getting a lot more views and comments.
Because with every action, comment, conversation, we have the choice to invite Heaven or Hell to Earth.
Well, I don’t know if I can comment on Kant or Hegel because I’m no real philosopher in the sense of knowing what these people have said in any detail so let me not comment on that too much.
Because of an off-hand funny comment I made backstage at a concert years ago, a story circulated that the song has been a burden and even that I didnt sing it for a while. Thats completely false. I am very proud of American Pie and the many satellites that grow from it and revolve around it. For many years I carried my songs around and now they carry me around. I have always sung American Pie for my audience and would never think of disappointing them since it is they who have given me a wonderful life and untold affection for almost 30 years.
I'm not a judgmental person, so I can't comment on someone else's background.
It was the wife, John thought. And she was giving this tough guy a tongue-lashing. And the man was taking it. "Okay. I love you. Bye." Tohrment flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket. When he focused on John again, he clearly respected his wife enough not to roll his eyes and make some macho, shithead comment about pesky women.
I did not ask for objections, but for comments, or helpful suggestions. I looked for more loyalty from you, Captain Hornblower.' That made the whole argument pointless. If Leighton only wanted servile agreement there was no sense in continuing.
No, I can just read you. Finally. I can't believe how blind I was. I can't believe I never noticed. Victor's comment...he was right." She glanced off at the sunset, then turned her gaze back on me. A flash of anger, both in her feelings and her eyes, hit me. "Why didn't you tell me?" she cried. "Why didn't you tell me you loved Dimitri?
They took to silence. They touched each other without comment and without progression. A hand on a hand, a clothed arm, resting on an arm. An ankle overlapping an ankle, as they sat on a beach, and not removed. One night they fell asleep, side by side... He slept curled against her back, a dark comma against her pale elegant phrase.
Her magic formula for dealing with children is ignoring all faults and accenting tiny virtues. She says, "Instead of telling Tommy day in and day out that he is the naughtiest boy in the United States of America, which could very well be true, take an aspirin and comment on his neatly tied shoes. Almost anybody would rather be known for expert shoe-tying than for kicking the cat." She always tells whiners how charming they are--bullies how brave--bad sports how good--sneaks how honest!
But perhaps more important, as someone wishing to make a comment or two about contemporary life and values, I don't have to dig through libraries or travel to exotic lands to arrive at a view of our modern situation refracted through the lens of the preindustrial world, or the uncommercialized, unfranchised, perhaps unsanitized-and therefore supposedly more "authentic"-perspective ofthe Third World. Very simply, this is because that "other" world, as alien as if separated by centuries in time, is the one from which I came
When I went to the Olympics, I had every intention of shaving the moustache off, but I realized I was getting so many comments about it — and everybody was talking about it — that I decided to keep it.
Things can never be as they were. It's astonishing how we comment on change, as if change is something remarkable. On the contrary, not to change is unnatural, against nature.
I don't get discouraged because of the comments. After all, they don't really know me.
In the beginning I remember when I would spend three hours a day on MySpace just trying to comment everyone back, and now, I spend a half hour a night on MySpace just putting up new stuff and answering people back and monitoring all the fan sites, and saying hi and thank you. I'm still way on top of it. I haven't grown out of it because it'll always be something that helped launch my career, and I'm going to keep maintaining it.
As a child, he had hardened his heart and learned to take their punches. He had learned to spit back and take down anyone who cast a jaundiced eye or who made a comment about either him, his mother, or his sister. He’d told himself that he didn’t need anyone’s love or caring. And so he had learned to live like a feral animal, always ready to strike out when someone tried to touch him.
Adrian opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready with some inappropriate and mocking comment. Lissa gave him a sharp headshake that kept him quiet. "Aren't there any, I don't know, sleeveless options?" The saleswoman's eyes widened. "No one has ever worn straps to a funeral. It wouldn't be right." "What about shorts?" asked Adrian. "Are they okay if they're with a tie? Because that's what I was gonna go with." The woman looked horrified.
What kind of tea do you want?" "There´s more than one kind of tea?...What do you have?" "Let´s see... Blueberry, Raspberry, Ginseng, Sleepytime, Green Tea, Green Tea with Lemon, Green Tea with Lemon and Honey, Liver Disaster, Ginger with Honey, Ginger Without Honey, Vanilla Almond, White Truffle Coconut, Chamomile, Blueberry Chamomile, Decaf Vanilla Walnut, Constant Comment and Earl Grey." -"I.. Uh...What are you having?... Did you make some of those up?
Are you armed?" Oliver asked her. She glanced down at her backpack and instantly, instinctively held back. "No." "Lie to me again and I'll put you out on the street and do this myself." Claire swallowed. "Uh, yeah." "With what?" "Silver-coated stakes, wooden stakes, a crossbow, about ten bolts . . . oh, and a squirt gun with some silver-nitrate solution." He smiled grimly at the dark windshield. "What, no grenade launchers?" "Would they work?" "I choose not to comment.
And that is just the point... how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. "Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?
Of course boredom may lead you to anything. It is boredom sets one sticking golden pins into people, but all that would not matter. What is bad (this is my comment again) is that I dare say people will be thankful for the gold pins then.
It's a mistake, you know. You have no idea what you'll be exposed to...the obscenities and lewd comments, the lecherous gazes, the groping and pinching...and that's just my house. Imagine what it would be like here.
How was I to know your pet was a god-killer? What kind of idiot ties herself down to one of his kind? (Dionysus) Well, gee, what was I supposed to do? Hook up with Mr. All-powerful God-killer or get myself a Mardi Gras float and hang out with him? (She pointed to Camulus, who looked extremely offended by her comment.) You’re such a moron. No wonder you’re the patron god of drunken frat boys. (Artemis)
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