Most of man's trouble comes from his inability to be still.
Age is nothing, can still win the Grand Slam, pretty happy about my age, more experience.
I, on the other hand, still might not be considered a proper adult. I had been very grown-up in primary school. But as I continued through secondary school, I in fact became less grown-up. And then as the years passed, I turned into quite a childlike person. I suppose I just wasn't able to ally myself with time.
If I never had any mental health issues, there's no doubt in my mind I'd still be playing.
What worries me is that the debate about gender differences still seems to polarize nature vs. nurture, with some in the social sciences and humanities wanting to assert that biology plays no role at all, apparently unaware of the scientific evidence to the contrary
Look, you couldn’t pay me to listen to their music, but I still feel like I have more in common with Insane Clown Posse than I do with someone who just sits on the sidelines and shits on other people’s work and who never puts themselves on the line.
I'm not going to / let a little thing like the world stand in my way. / Why should I? I understand it / as much as I understand penguins / and I still go to the zoo.
Say goodbye to a world where you cannot breathe/ To hiding behind unfamiliar skin/ To singing songs never knowing what they mean/ Now this is the way it was meant to be/ Be still and listen to the rising and falling/ Knowledge is power and I never knew me till now.
Real life is a story, too, only much more complicated. It’s still got a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everyone follows the same rules, you know. . . It’s just that there are more of them. Everyone has chapters and cliffhangers. Everyone has their journey to make. Some go far and wide and come back empty-handed; some don’t go anywhere and their journey makes them richest of all. Some tales have a moral and some don’t make any sense. Some will make you laugh, others make you cry. The world is a library, young Poison, and you’ll never get to read the same book twice.
I spend more time learning about Buddhism than English, which is why my English today is still bad.
I'm still a student of fashion, but I like hooking up with the people that really know how to make cool clothes.
I'm very lucky, I've got two very loving parents, still very much together, and always been very supportive.
My past made me who I am today. I can’t just pretend it never happened. But the biggest lesson I learnt from that, is that I can be an example for others who are still struggling! There’s always hope and help for everyone. I think it’s my responsibility to do that, to help. I always refer to this as the “moment of clarity”. It’s hard to explain what really happened, but it was a once in a lifetime kind of moment. I had reached my lowest point and I just knew things had to change quickly because there was just no other way, you know.
Facts can't be recounted; much less twice over, and far less still by different persons. I've already drummed that thoroughly into your head.
I train so hard to make sure failure doesn't happen. If I do everything I can, and run as fast as I possibly can and someone still beats me, I don't think of that as failure.
It's still hard for me to understand, what is to me, the morbid fascination with celebrity. I just want to sing, I want to work on my music, I want to make my movies, that's all I want to do. I understand, you know, the interest but I really don't understand the fascination with it.
I might not be famous one day. But I'd still be happy.
A flower is relatively small... Still in a way-nobody sees a flower-so I said to myself-I'll paint it big.
Yeah. I wouldn't do it if it wasn't fun... We're showing people how, in a pretty crazy and whacked-out, dangerous world, you can still have fun.
Still, it is an error to argue in front of your data. You find yourself insensibly twisting them round to fit your theories.
The becoming still can never be the being still; only with the death of becoming is there being.
Many, however, gives themselves to God, but preserve still in their hearts some attachment to creatures, which prevents them from belonging entirely to God.
How, then, shall God give himself entirely to that one who, besides his God, loves creatures still?
I cannot but think we have much to be thankful for, and more still to hope for in the future.
The code of the knight is still the code of the gentleman today.
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