Too bad brooms can't really fly. Now if you miss the bus you can't just go in your room and fly to school with a nimbus two thousand!
I'm gonna put extra blankets, free, in all your rooms, and there'll be no cover charge.
Lock yourself up in your room or go out in the woods where you an be alone. When you are alone the universe talks to you in flashes of inspiration.
Love as much as you can from wherever you are. This line is especially good to recall when you feel frightened, crazy, or have taken some bad dope. Write it on the wall of your room. You may not want to love what you feel or see, you may not be able to convince yourself that you could love it at all. But just decide to love it. Say out loud that you love it, even if you don't believe it. And say, "I love myself for hating this."
Writing is a funny business. You sit in your room and listen to voices and write everything down. What kind of a profession is that?
My advice to you is please don't ever sit in your room and lock yourself away because you don't think you're good enough.
What good is sitting all alone in your room?
On the road, as a 'rock star,' there's superficial attention and adulation is thrown at you for a couple of hours - then you're alone in your room and it's lonely.
Do you know how you get the urge to clean your room, and it’s no big deal? But when your mom tells you that you have to clean your room, you don't want to? That's me, anyway.
I like my house to be unique to me. Sure, I've bought plenty of things out of a catalog, but the way I put them together in my home is special. You might have bought your sofa at a major home decorating store, but the rug you found at the flea market is so unique, it takes your room from 'carbon copy' to 'simply yours' in no time.
Throw open your window and let the scenery of clouds and sky enter your room.
A little while alone in your room will prove more valuable than anything else that could ever be given you.
I want to be with you, too,” he said. “I’ll come to your room after dawn.” Qhuinn didn’t want to ask. Had to. “What about Saxton?” “He’s gone on vacation.” Reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally. “For how long?” “Just a couple of days.” Too bad. Any chance of an extension…for like a year or two? Maybe forever? “Okay, it’s a—” Qhuinn stopped himself before he finished that with date. There was no sense kidding himself. Saxton was away. Blay wanted to get laid. And Qhuinn was more than willing to supply the male with what he wanted.
We exist because of suburbia. Suburbia is a freak’s dreamworld, a world of extra rooms upstairs and long, lazy afternoons with no interference. A place where you can listen to your LPs for hours on end. You can live in your room, your own rent-free corner of the universe, and create a world of pleasure and interest entirely centered on yourself and your interior aesthetic and logic.
Self-knowledge is not the knowledge of a dead self, self-knowledge is the knowledge of the process of the self. It is an alive phenomenon. The self is not a thing, it is an event, it is a process. Never think in terms of things, the self is not there inside you just like a thing waiting in your room. The self is a process: changing, moving, arriving at new altitudes, moving into new planes, going deeper into new depths. Each moment much work is going on and the only way to encounter this self is to encounter it in relationship.
Even if you're a poet sitting in your room writing a poem, you're still in the world - although I guess being a poet is a different than having to deal with 40 or 50 people to raise a couple million bucks and all that bullshit.
So okay - there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You've blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water. Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about? And the equally big answer: Anything you damn well want.
Playing in front of people is a lot different from playing in your room
Darken your room, shut the door, empty your mind. You are still in great company.
What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play; Life is a cabaret, old chum, Come to the cabaret.
Your room is not your prison. You are.
...if you wish to get pure air into your room, or if you go for a walk in the fresh air, think of the pure and of the unclean heart. Many of us like to have pure air in the room (and this is an excellent habit), or are fond of walking in the fresh air, but they do not even think of the necessity of the purity of the spirit or heart (of, so to say, spiritual air, the breath of life); and, living in the fresh air, they allow themselves to indulge in impure thoughts, impure movements of the heart, and even impurity of language, and most impure carnal actions.
Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room before you save the world. Then save the world.
After the cheers have died down and the stadium is empty, after the headlines have been written and after you are back in the quiet of your room and the championship ring has been placed on the dresser and all the pomp and fanfare has faded, the enduring things that are left are: the dedication to excellence, the dedication to victory, and the dedication to doing with our lives the very best we can to make the world a better place in which to live.
Tell me what you feel in your room when the full moon is shining in upon you and your lamp is dying out, and I will tell you how old you are, and I shall know if you are happy.
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