And I can't die easy thinking maybe the menfolks white or black is making a spit cup out of you. Have some sympathy for me. Put me down easy, Janie, I'm a cracked plate.
Don’t touch me. It makes my skin crawl. (Grace) Grace! I can’t believe you– (Selena) At least she didn’t spit in my face with her dying breath. (Julian) They shoot, they score. A direct hit straight through the heart and into the raw nerves. (Selena)
The mistake the world is making with the simple peoples is to try and hurry them into political concepts they don't understand and aren't prepared to cope with. I know. I am a peasant myself. ... I say, Spit on the big, fancy schemes. I want all the little things first. Then perhaps we can get on to the bigger things.
We like to hunt and golf and drive around lost, and scratch and spit, and a whole lot of other disgusting stuff.
[Coleridge] selected an instance of what was called the sublime, in DARWIN, who imagined the creation of the universe to have taken place in a moment, by the explosion of a mass of matter in the womb, or centre of space. In one and the same instant of time, suns and planets shot into systems in every direction, and filled and spangled the illimitable void! He asserted this to be an intolerable degradation -referring, as it were, all the beauty and harmony of nature to something like the bursting of a barrel of gunpowder! that spit its combustible materials into a pock-freckled creation!
I wouldn't even hold my kids sometimes because I didn't want them to spit up on me when I was dressed for an awards show.
People get cranky when you burst their bubble. Over time, advances in astronomy have relentlessly reinforced the utter insignificance of Earth on a celestial scale. Fortunately, political and religious leaders stopped barbecuing astronomers for saying so, turning their spits with human-rights activists instead.
Now, if someone wants to spit on me, I just roll up the window of my BMW 540i.
Lord, spit on our eyes that we may see, how to wake up from this tragedy.
I can see why many Southerners, black ones in particular, don't like the implication that Southernness and the Confederate heritage are one and the same, because they're not. On the other hand, there are people who want to extirpate that completely and want folks to spit on the graves of their ancestors.
I don't trust Santa Barbara as far as I can spit. I am afraid that if I went back there, it's possible that I could be run through their system, their judicial system, and wind up in some county jail where I could be killed and I'm not gonna take that chance.
I know you shouldn't spit in your own soup but I think most crime writing is like TV and doesn't make enormous demands on one's intellect.
I'd love to spit some Beechnut in that dude's eye and shoot him with my ole forty-five.
I remember when you were born, it was dawn and the storm settled near my belly. And I rolled in the grass and spit out the gas, and I lit a match and the void went flash. And the sky split and the planets hit, balls of jade dropped and existence stopped.
How does it taste?” Carter wondered. Zia smiled. “Stick out your tongue.” To answer Carter’s question, the tattoo tasted like burning car tires. “Ugh.” I spit a blue gob of “order and harmony” into the fountain.
He who has not been at a tavern knows not what a paradise it is. O holy tavern! O miraculous tavern! - holy, because no carking cares are there, nor weariness, nor pain; and miraculous, because of the spits, which themselves turn round and round!
There, close enough to spit on--if I'd been a barbarian and inclined to spit--was the dragon.
Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn‟t take a peek at what you‟d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again. One shot. That was all you got.
I used to look at these pictures of trumpeters pointing their instrument to the ceiling. Stunning pictures, but if you play the trumpet and point it upwards, all the spit comes back into your mouth!
Shoot, there's a committee to tell you everything at a record label. You definitely have to know who you are if you want to look like you at the end of the process. We've all seen people get record contracts, and by the time they're spit out by the machine, we don't even recognize them.
I want to spit in the face of these badlands.
God's the seamtress that tailor-fitted my pain yo I got scriptures in my brain I can spit at yo dane straight the good book, look, niggas is shook 50 fear no man, warrior swing swords like conana
I could spit dust I'm so mad. He wants to put violins on my new session. I'll die before I'll go all the way pop.
I'm so happy, I can hardly spit.
Admittedly, art is somewhat like spit. It does not repulse or even worry is while it is still inside of us, but once it exits our body, it becomes disgusting.
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