Just previous to the birth of my little son, my mind gave way and my child was born in the asylum for the insane at Stockton, Cal. My boy was buried there.
Poetry's unnat'ral; no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day, or Warren's blackin' or Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fellows; never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy.
I absolutely insist that all my boys are in bed before breakfast
Most things are born in the mothering darkness and most things die. Darkness is the womb of creation, my boy. But the sun with his seven horns of flame is the father of life.
I was surprise to see the world didn't stop just cause my boy did.
I really wanted to raise my boys in a place where 'celebrity' wasn't important, and where I could be closer to where I grew up (upstate NY). I love it here - it reminds me of my childhood. It seems more open minded and inclusive, and I love the seasons.
My boy, you must find a kingdom big enough for your ambitions. Macedon is too small for you.
The first thing that jumps out in my mind is David versus Goliath. That's one of the first stories we ever learn as kids. That's one of the most inspirational stories about courage. David stood in the face of terrible odds and defeated the giant. I love reading that story to my boys. Being courageous is doing something isn't easy or fun but you do it because it's the right thing to do.
As for literature It gives no man a sinecure. And no one knows, at sight, a masterpiece. And give up verse, my boy, There's nothing in it.
Michael!” Oliver’s voice came faint through the front door. “Something you should see, my boy! Look out your windows!” “Trap,” Shane said instantly, and reached out to grab Michael’s arm as he walked by. “Don’t, man.” “What’s he going to do? Make faces at me?
Liam in Taken has been great to see. My boys love it. They love him. And there's just the gravitas to it. It's believable. You know the guy's endured. You know the guy's lived some life. Someone like Liam has lived a lot of life. Myself, I've lived a lot of life. There's loss. There's success. There's loss. There's doubts. And there's some heartbeat there.
I like my boy with his endless sweet soliloquies and iterations and his utter inability to conceive why I should not leave all my nonsense, business, and writing and come to tie up his toy horse, as if there was or could be any end to nature beyond his horse. And he is wiser than we when [he] threatens his whole threat "I will not love you."
My boy, we are pilgrims in an unholy land.
When I'm writing a song, it's just me and the songwriters. Then when the song is done, there are publishers that hear it, then people in my management, then my wife and my boys and my friends, and if they're all lovin' it, it's kind of withstanding all the criticism I need.
America is dumb, it's like a dumb puppy that has big teeth that can bite and hurt you, aggressive. My daughter is four, my boy is one. I'd like them to see America as a toy, a broken toy. Investigate it a little, check it out, get this feeling and then get out.
My boy, you shall be everything in the world, animal, vegetable, mineral, protista, or virus, for all I care-before I have done with you-but you will have to trust my superior backsight. The time is not yet ripe for you to be a hawk... so you may as well sit down for the moment and learn to be a human being.
It is the world, my boy," he said. "All the World, in ink and blood, vellum and parchment, leather and hide. It is the World, and it is yours to save or lose.
I didn't know then what a sperm was, and so wouldn't understand his answer for several years. "My boy," he said, "you are descended from a long line of determined, resourceful, microscopic tadpoles-- champions every one.
Just pity him, my boy. Tomorrow we'll be on our way, but he'll have to keep his own disagreeable company until the day he dies.
Sir Topher finally looked up. “Because any hope beyond that, my boy, would be too much. I feared we would drown in it.” "Then I choose to drown,” Finnikin said. “In hope. Rather than float into nothing.
Like my boy tells me; if it looks like a rat and smells like a rat, by golly, it is a rat.
I had the blood and fire rule when my boys were young. You know, unless it's blood or fire, don't bother me.
Love is for fools. It is a surging of blood in the loins ... there is no mystery, and no magic. Find someone else, my boy.
I was so involved in my boy-rhythms that I never came to grips with the fact that I was a girl. I was twelve years old when my mother took me inside and said, "You can't be outside wrestling without a T-shirt on." It was a trauma.
Middle age, my boy. No memory at all.
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