These are islands in time - with nothing to date them on the calendar of mankind. In these areas it is as though a person were looking backward into the ages and forward untold years. Here are bits of eternity, which have a preciousness beyond all accounting.
When I find someone I respect writing about an edgy, nervous wine that dithered in the glass, I cringe. When I hear someone I don't respect talking about an austere, unforgiving wine, I turn a bit austere and unforgiving myself. When I come across stuff like that and remember about the figs and bananas, I want to snigger uneasily. You can call a wine red, and dry, and strong, and pleasant. After that, watch out.
Appreciating old wine is like making love to a very old lady. It is possible. It can even be enjoyable. But it requires a bit of imagination.
O truly enjoy... [a university], the individual-student or faculty-must harbor a well-calibrated sense of annoyance at the institution, entering into a muted adversarial relationship...both in order to move the institution just that little bit away from what is was to what it could become, and also to assure at least the sense if not the reality of independence.
Imagine books and music and movies being filtered and homogenized. Certified. Approved for consumption. People will be happy to give up most of their culture for the assurance that the tiny bit that comes through is safe and clean. White noise.
With too little data, you won't be able to make any conclusions that you trust. With loads of data you will find relationships that aren't real... Big data isn't about bits, it's about talent.
We reward people a lot for being rich, for being famous, for being cute, for being thin... one of the values I think we need to instill in our country, in our children, is a sense of 'usefulness', in other words, are we useful, are we making other peoples' lives a little bit better?
I think, you're not blagging me on this ridiculous journey, with this bit of paper. I think if you want to change things, it's not with an X on a piece of paper, it's with an X on someone's forehead.
Do your little bit of good where you are.
Having a crush is a bit like being infected with the most annoying, troubling and yet delicious disease you could get. It is almost more of an affliction.
When the moon shall have faded out from the sky, and the sun shall shine at noonday a dull cherry red, and the seas shall be frozen over, and the icecap shall have crept downward to the equator from either pole . . . when all the cities shall have long been dead and crumbled into dust, and all life shall be on the last verge of extinction on this globe; then, on a bit of lichen, growing on the bald rocks beside the eternal snows of Panama, shall be seated a tiny insect, preening its antennae in the glow of the worn-out sun, the sole survivor of animal life on this our earth - a melancholy bug.
During your life, everything you do and everyone you meet rubs off in some way. Some bit of everything you experience stays with everyone you've ever known, and nothing is lost. That's what is eternal, these little specks of experience in a great, enormous river that has no end.
When I sat on the chair at 5-0, I was like, 'Okay, now you can try to break her, and if not, you have the serve.' So I was a little bit more relaxed since I had a few chances to do that. But I still knew I could break her. Then suddenly I did a winner from the backhand, and I was so happy. I didn't really know what was going to happen, and I just had tears in my eyes, I was just so, so happy.
Men want the same thing from their underwear that they want from women: a little bit of support, and a little bit of freedom.
I mean there's still also an element of the audience looking for role models. In my day, when I started, if you were an action hero, you were a little bit of a role model like the person.
Global warming is one of those things, not like an earthquake where there's a big bang and you say, 'Oh, my God, this is really, has hit us.' It creeps up on you. ... Half a degree temperature difference from one year to the next, a little bit of rise of the ocean, a little bit of melting of the glaciers, and then all of a sudden it is too late to do something about it.
When a task seems too daunting to even approach, break it up into little bits.
We humans are basically content with a two-dimensional world, which is what we-ve always occupied. We travel mostly on the ground, have traffic jams, parking problems , and we-d do a lot better to look up a little bit because there is that great aerial highway that-s always ready to go, you Don't have to pave it and the benefits are very great.
My tricks are, I get Botox in my forehead-I just have my doctor do a little shot there. if you overdo, it looks bad. I believe in just a little bit. It allows you to keep that mobility in your face. It's a great little secret.
When you study history, you're really studying yourself. Every bit of history I've uncovered about my own family has some remnant in myself.
You know, a song is like a kid. You bring it up. And sometimes something you thought was going to be fantastic, by the time it's finished, is a bit of a disappointment...Beyond a certain point, the music isn't mine anymore. It's yours.
I edit as I go. Especially when I go to commit it to paper. I prefer a typewriter even to a computer. I don't like it. There's no noise on the computer. I like a typewriter because I am such a slow typist. I edit as I am committing it to paper. I like to see the words before me and I go, "Yeah, that's it." They appear before me and they fit. I don't usually take large parts out. If I get stuck early in a song, I take it as a sign that I might be writing the chorus and don't know it. Sometimes,you gotta step back a little bit and take a look at what you're doing.
You know just because you don't like the way it sounds when I say it or you don't like my haircut or you don't like that I'm gay, it does not mean that what we say is not true. If you squint a little bit, it is true I do sometimes look like a dude, and I am definitely gay.
Keep out of Chancery. It's being ground to bits in a slow mill; it's being roasted at a slow fire; it's being stung to death by single bees; it's being drowned by drops; it's going mad by grains.
It's hard for me to describe the joy I felt after I stood up and rode wave in for the first time after the attack. I was incredibly thankful and happy inside. The tiny bit of doubt that would sometimes tell me you'll never surf again was gone in one wave.
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