You know, one, two, three, four, five years go by and then Marcos gets a little boring.
I have been playing a lot of keyboards, especially in the last five or six years. I suppose it gives you more scope than the guitar, although it does tend to make you write a different way.
I prepared five songs, I sang them, and he hired me. I started working about a month later at the piano bar.
When I was five. That's when I started to love film.
When you're in your early 20s your love life seems to explode every 20 minutes or so. By the time you've reached your thirties, it is every five or ten years.
Country artists, I met a lot of them when I was five, six years old. I had an uncle who was a country and western singer and I met Lefty Frizzell when I was five or six years old in those shows that would come through Toronto from Nashville.
We were from totally different social backgrounds. This is what is very hard for an American to understand, but we could have been five guys from Mars.
They seem to be getting it together. How much damage will the picture of people spending four or five days on rooftops do That depends on how well it goes from here on out.
I go to a poison registry and I find that no one has died from any overdose of any vitamins, herbs, or amino acids... But FIVE THOUSAND people end up dying from drug reactions in a single year.
As you get older, it's harder to maintain your weight and to fly through the air for those routines. It's also the lifestyle; you train seven to eight hours a day, five to six days a week.
Hiro is a talented drifter. This is the kind of lifestyle that sounded romantic to him as recently as five years ago. But in the bleak light of full adulthood, which is to one's early twenties as Sunday morning is to Saturday night, he can clearly see what it really amounts to: He's broke and unemployed.
The beautiful simplicity of our faith is that it distills down to the exact same bottom line for both the brilliant theologian and the five-year-old child: love God and love each other - period.
The latter. She had a good run, Sook said, doing a little shrug. It was his usual response to death at Mapleshade, and it was a safe bet that he felt that way about himself. Like most twice-widowed, Korea-vet, nature-loving, gun-enthusiast, bilingual, weed-connoisseur great grandfathers of five, he'd lived a full life.
I wrote The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God in five hours, but I had it all planned out. It isn't poetry and it does not pretend to be, but it does what it sets out to do.
It is hard to communicate understanding because that is something you get by living with a problem for a long time. You study it, perhaps for years, you get the feel of it and it is in your bones. You can't convey that to anyone else. Having studied the problem for five years you may be able to present it in such a way that it would take somebody else less time to get to that point than it took you. But if they haven't struggled with the problem and seen all the pitfalls, then they haven't really understood it.
I drive a V10 Ford Excursion and I have to tell folks all the time: look I've got five kids and a dog and birds. I would have to have two Lincolns with two V8s, you see, so it would be 16 cylinders.
I'm a dog person, I've had dogs all my life. But you see, it's not really a dog. It's more like a little robot. It's an actor. It displays no emotion whatsoever. I swear that dog doesn't know any of us even though we've done five seasons of Frasier.
We only have one dog now. Calamity Jane had to be put down. She was very old, and her medicine no longer controlled her seizures. Dilly is five now, I think. He's a neutered American Pit Bull Terrier, very gentle, about the color of buckskin.
I grew up with two different parakeets - one that lived for five years, and one that lived for 13 years - so I always had a bit of an attraction to birds and it's an oddly good fit to be in a movie about birdwatchers.
Here is the door of my mom's house, well-remembered childhood portal. Here is the yard, and a set of wires that runs from the house to a wooden pole, and some fat birds sitting together on the wires, five of them lined up like beads on an abacus.
I haven't written poetry in a long time but I read it and I miss it. It is so hard to write. So hard to finish, so hard to find the exact word to make it shine. In honor of my youth I will write a poem to finish this essay. It is spring in the Ozark Mountains. The yellow flowers are blooming and the birds wake me at dawn and last night five planets lined up by the moon in the western sky. If that doesn't inspire me to poetry what will?
... a gaggle of old ladies is glued to the window at the end of the hall like children or jailbirds. They're spidery and frail, their hair as fine as mist. Most of them are a good decade younger than me, and this astounds me. Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.--There are five of them now, white headed old things huddled together and pointing crooked fingers at the glass.
I'll be clickin' by your house about two forty-five, Sidewalk Sundae Strawberry Surprise.
Banana Splits for Breakfast. I think I ate about five.
Recently I was tenderly hugging one of our precious little five-year-old granddaughters and said to her, "I love you, sweetheart." She responded rather blandly: "I know." I asked, "How do you know that I love you?" Because! You're my grandfather!
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