We're the McDonalds of rock. Were always there to satisfy, and a billion served.
A lovely nook of forest scenery, or a grand rock, like a beautiful woman, depends for much of its attractiveness upon the attendance sense of freedom from whatever is low; upon a sense of purity and of romance.
For all of those who wanna profile and pose Rock you in your face, stab your brain with your nose bone.
O Death, rock me asleep, bring me to quiet rest, let pass my weary guiltless ghost out of my careful breast.
Live every week like it's shark week.
I guess the line between being paranoid and being a rock star is smaller than one would expect.
I got rid of all my Colin Firth movies in case they consider it erotica.
I guess I'm used to seeing actors, but rock musicians still hold a special magic for me.
You can't make a sculpture until you've got a lump of rock.
Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.
Most of the people who are given these Rock'n'roll Hall of Fame things sell millions of records, so it's kind of like a trophy for them.
PEOPLE HAVE WANTED TO narrate since first we banged rocks together & wondered about fire. There’ll be tellings as long as there are any of us here, until the stars disappear one by one like turned-out lights.
Did you really think I wouldn't recognize my college futon, with its trademark absence of sex stains?
In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.
To the extreme I rock a mike like a vandal.
A rock star never gets old!
My defenses were so great. The cocky rock and roll hero who knows all the answers was actually a terrified guy who didn't know how to cry. Simple.
If I have learned anything from my SIMS family: When a child doesn't see his father enough he starts to jump up and down, then his mood level will drop until he pees himself.
An island can be dreadful for someone from outside. Everything is complete, and everyone has his obstinate, sure and self-sufficient place. Within their shores, everything functions according to rituals that are as hard as rock from repetition, and at the same time they amble through their days as whimsically and casually as if the world ended at the horizon.
Time after time mankind is driven against the rocks of the horrid reality of a fallen creation. And time after time mankind must learn the hard lessons of history-the lessons that for some dangerous and awful reason we can't seem to keep in our collective memory.
Basically, this industry is mostly run by men, and I think women have a harder time...I've had enough of the "Women in Rock" issues of magazines and all of that. There's no reason why we should have our own separate little genre; that's just ridiculous. Besides, what is the genre? I certainly don't fit into the whole "Lilith" thing (thank God), but I am a female musician. And there are enough other great females in music that don't have to fit into it, either.
Talk of mysteries! — Think of our life in nature, — daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it, — rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! The solid earth! The actual world! The common sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we? Where are we?
Children get smashed for hours on some strictly limited aspect of the Great Big Everything, the Universe, such as water or snow or mud or colors or rocks.
Let it be ours to be self-reliant amidst hosts of the vacillating — real in a generation of triflers — true amongst a multitude of shams; when tempted to swerve from principle, sturdy as an oak in its maintenance; when solicited by the enticement of sinners, firm as a rock in our denial.
Rock star, flier than an ostrich...
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