A test of what is real is that it is hard and rough. Joys are found in it, not pleasure. What is pleasant belongs to dreams.
Someday love will find me in the rough. Someday love will finally be enough. I shine a little more lately.
I like Alexander McQueen's work a lot: he's always pushing boundaries, and he's rough around the edges.
These days, teachers have it rough. Kids can be hyperactive, disobedient, and obnoxious. It must feel like being locked in a room of drunk midgets.
I was used to playing misled youth, rough-and-tumble guys. It was nice to get back to a big-hearted, warm and gentle soul, a guy who is destined for something a lot larger than he ever expected
GOING TO WALDEN It isn't very far as highways lie. I might be back by nightfall, having seen The rough pines, and the stones, and the clear water. Friends argue that I might be wiser for it. They do not hear that far-off Yankee whisper: How dull we grow from hurrying here and there! Many have gone, and think me half a fool To miss a day away in the cool country. Maybe. But in a book I read and cherish, Going to Walden is not so easy a thing As a green visit. It is the slow and difficult Trick of living, and finding it where you are.
The scenes of our life are like pictures done in rough mosaic. Looked at close, they produce no effect. There is nothing beautiful to be found in them, unless you stand some distance off.
Real, rough and rugged, shine like a gold nugget, Every time I pick up the microphone, I drug it.
Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse, My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse. I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk, Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk.
...Cops just surrounding me with pistols everywhere. They put me in the backseat of their car handcuffed, Pushed out them chests like they're big rough and tough. A cop come and said 'You'll never sell your guns now.' I said 'It doesn't matter, you'll sell them anyhow. You take the guns from me, you sell them for a fee; Anyway you put it, they'll get in the city!'
Justice in politics has an uncomfortable habit of being rough.
The thirst for something other than what we have…to bring something new, even if it is worse, some emotion, some sorrow; when our sensibility, which happiness has silenced like an idle harp, wants to resonate under some hand, even a rough one, and even if it might be broken by it.
In a rough way the short story writer is to the novelist as a cabinetmaker is to a house carpenter.
There's no place you can go on the prairie that you don't hear the white noise of the wind, steady and rough as surf curling along a non-existant shore.
Moreover, my ancestors' souls are sustained by the atmosphere of the house, since I answer for them the questions that their lives once left behind. I carve out rough answers as best I can. I have even drawn them on the walls. It is as if a silent, greater family, stretching down the centuries, were peopling the house.
We do not go to the green woods and crystal waters to rough it, we go to smooth it. We get it rough enough at home, in towns and cities.
Enemies and friends act like spiritual coaches. They round out the rough spots on Soul's unfoldment. The Mahanta (inner spiritual guide) teaches through others. So pay careful attention when sparks fly, because some important things in you - perhaps courage or forgiveness - needs some polish.
You don't know who you messing with man, I slap people for fun. That's what I do man! You wanna play rough, huh, I kill for fun!
God Almighty never intended that the devil should triumph over the Church. He never intended that the saloons should walk rough-shod over Christianity.
Here's a secret. Many novelists, if they are pressed and if they are being honest, will admit that the finished book is a rather rough translation of the book they'd intended to write.
Other than dying, I think puberty is probably about as rough as it gets.
Because your goal is a complete rough draft of a novel, and every rough draft, by being complete, is perfect.
Love is a mighty power, a great and complete good. Love alone lightens every burden, and makes rough places smooth. It bears every hardship as though it were nothing, and renders all bitterness sweet and acceptable.
Regret is an uneven hand, a rough palm at the cheek — tender and calloused.
My father showed me so much love. He showed my brother so much love. He just, he had a rough life. You know, he grew up in a boys home in the Bronx. He didn't really know his own family. So I couldn't hold it against him that he didn't know how to parent. He didn't know how to be the perfect husband. But he loved as much as he could.
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