Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.
Yelling a battle cry—more to motivate himself than frighten his foes—Lukel grabbed the table leg and swung it at a soldier. The wood bounced off the man's helmet, but the blow was powerful enough to daze him, so Lukel followed it with a solid blow to the face. The soldier dropped and Lukel grabbed his weapon. Now he had a sword. He only wished he knew how to use it.
Don't be stupid. You're a child. You don't know what it means to be in love." And she flung open the car door as if she wished she had the strength to rip it from the hinges, and stalked off to the house through the rain. That night, I lay in bed, troubled by what she'd said, blocking out the sounds of argument from my parents' room. Was love what my parents had? Yelling at eachother, worrying about money? Never smiling? Never happy? If that was love, then I didn't want it.
It's so ridiculous to see a golfer with a one foot putt and everybody is saying "Shhh" and not moving a muscle. Then we allow nineteen year-old kids to face a game-deciding free throw with seventeen thousand people yelling.
...."we saw this big dark red leech hanging off his back. We were dancing round yelling: ‘We’ll burn it off! Get the petrol! Stay still Mr Kassar, you can trust us!’ He wimped out though, and made us use salt. Very boring.
A bunch of bong-smoking, America-bashing, flag-burning, yoga-posing, incense-burning, dolphin-saving, salmon-eating hypocrites. These are the sensitive, liberal people who are always yelling about people's freedom of speech and expression, unless you happen to say something that pisses them off.
Never charge a player and, above all, no pointing your finger or yelling.
Older boys often asked me to teach them “some bad words in your language”. At first I politely refused. My refusal merely increased their determination, so I solved the problem by teaching them phrases like 'man kharam' which means “I'm an idiot”. I told them that what I was teaching them was so nasty that they would have to promise never to repeat it to anyone. They would then spend all of recess running around yelling “I'm an idiot! I'm an idiot!”. I never told them the truth. I figured someday, somebody would
I never yelled at my players much. That would have been artificial stimulation, which doesn't last very long. I think it's like love and passion. Passion won't last as long as love. When you are dependent on passion, you need more and more of it to make it work. It's the same with yelling.
Ok, this is the most unfun threesome I have ever been a part of. Nobody's having sex and someone is yelling. I'm out of here.
I still fall asleep with the TV on, because I'm used to falling asleep with people yelling 'Action!' and 'Cut!
To me this is not yelling. I am not yelling. I'm just passionate about my opinions and I want to tell you all of them before you start talking again.
If I could have drawn a cat yelling for lasagna every day for 15 years and have them pay me $30 million to do so, I would have.
If you're yelling within you that they shouldn't yell at you, that is where the pain begins, not with their yelling at you.
People are tired of just yelling at the TV set. They actually are going to turn out and vote.
The tough thing about radio is I've met a lot of people in it who like my music. But it's hard for them to figure out how to play what they like when there's somebody up above them yelling 'you have to play this.
That's one of the great things about comedy: we can - and should - say the things that other people aren't supposed to say. If we didn't do that, if we didn't push against those limits, we'd just be standing around onstage and yelling.
I think if Jesus had one shot at fixing us, He’d tell us how much He loves us. Jesus loves us right now, just as we are. He isn’t standing aloof, yelling at us to climb out of our pits and clean ourselves up so we can be worthy of Him. He is wading waist-deep into the muck of life, weeping with the broken, rescuing the lost, and healing the sick.
Why getting angry? Getting angry doesn’t solve anything… I don’t like yelling and fighting and I can’t quarrel, I prefer to let it drop… When people use disagreeable words, I feel crushed and remember them for a long time.
The ordinary run of advertising is nothing more than an effort to sell something by yelling in print.
If you're not yelling at your kids, you're not spending enough time with them.
What I’m talking about is more than recompense for past injustices—more than a handout, a payoff, hush money, or a reluctant bribe. What I’m talking about is a national reckoning that would lead to spiritual renewal. Reparations would mean the end of scarfing hot dogs on the Fourth of July while denying the facts of our heritage. Reparations would mean the end of yelling “patriotism” while waving a Confederate flag. Reparations would mean a revolution of the American consciousness, a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history.
Most Canadians don't understand the House of Commons. They turn on their televisions, see us yelling at one another, and dismiss us as a bunch of fools.
OK, they fire the puck from the blue line. Chief usually yelling 'block the shot' at the defensemen. They doesn't have the goalie gear, but they have to block the shot. So who is more crazy, me or the defensemen? Who is more weird?
In Turkey, the media wait for you outside. You go down to them, in tunnel, and sometimes, people are yelling and throwing things. They throw coins. I get hit in the head. Bleeding. There is blood.
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