The military and the clergy cause us much annoyance; the clergy and the military, they empty our wallets and rob our intelligence.
The lost wallet or purse law: No matter how careful you are, assume that you will lose a few. ... Keep grief to a minimum. It's bad enough your stuff is gone; don't lose your mind too.
Estate in two parishes is bread in two wallets.
I've got a grocery bill at the end of every month.Our toothpaste, our orange juice, that all gets paid. But I - it is true that I don't carry my wallet that often.
The 3-D effects in "Star Wars" are so realistic, you can actually see George Lucas reaching from the screen and taking the money from your wallet.
In a real fight, there ain't no time and you've got to use your wits. If someone were threatening the life of my child, then I'd be a good fighter. If somebody just wanted to steal my wallet, well, maybe I wouldn't worry about it so much.
I tend to wear a coat more for the fact that I worry if I'm going to get drunk, I'm going to get pickpocketed. And a coat goes over your pockets so it's harder for someone to get their hand in and steal your phone or wallet out of your pocket. It's an unnecessary level of thinking that may lessen the enjoyment you have out of life.
The traditional dictionary definition of the difference is that an alcoholic will steal your wallet in a blackout, come to, and apologize for it. A junkie will steal your wallet and then help you look for it. But ultimately I think all addictions boil down to just not being able to be with yourself for any long degree of time.
In the kingdome of a cheater the wallet is carried before.
Just as we should never balance the budget on the backs of the poor, so it is an economic delusion to think you can balance it only on the wallets of the rich.
My father was a guy who, because of the businesses he was in - the hotel business, the hospitality business - he didn't differentiate between the waiter serving you dinner, from the maitre d from the guy who owns a restaurant. Everybody was the same to him. He didn't look at who you were. He didn't look at your wallet.
Most voters would rather have their purse or wallet stolen than be audited by the IRS.
A chest of gold coins or a fat wallet of bills is of no use whatsoever to a wrecked sailor alone on a raft.
As we're bombarded daily with new ads for pills, diets and ab-doers, we have to protect our wallets and our time.
If I walk on the street, if I go to a restaurant, people come to me and say: "Can we take a photo together? Can you give me your autograph?" They would bring their expensive Armani or Prada wallet to sign. Other people who are desperate show me a photo of their dead daughter and ask: Can you support me? I tell them: How can I? Morally, of course, I sympathize with you. But I cannot support you and you cannot support me. This is the condition of this society. We are separated.
We need to get past the point where being black and a male means that I am likely to mug you for your wallet, likely to have a minus 15 on my IQ, likely to not go to college and likely to wear my pants below my arse.
Take the cards out of your wallet. A debit card is accepted just about everywhere that credit cards are, and you'll be spending money you have - always a good thing.
Your wallet will be stolen, you'll get fat, slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel and crack your hip.
I want young people to be able to buy into what I design. When I was young, I wanted to buy designer brands even if all I could afford was the cheapest wallet, the cheapest pen, the cheapest T-shirt because I wanted to be a part of it.
There is no way I’m going out in public like this!” It seemed while I was being tormented at the salon, Bones had been out shopping. I didn’t ask where he got the money from, images of old folks with their necks bleeding and their wallets missing dancing in my head. There were boots, earrings, push-up bras, skirts, and something he swore to me were dresses but only looked like pieces of dresses.
How'd you get in here?" She raised her eyebrows. “You pick pockets.” Kat watched his hand fly to his back pocket. “I can pick locks. Looking for this?” she asked, holding up his wallet. “Oops. Maybe I can pick pockets too.
Dennis looked at the puppy in the window. We both did. It was the oddest thing. Normally, puppies in pet store windows sleep or pee or roll around on top of other dogs. This one ignored us its window-mates and was instead sitting with its nose pressed against the glass, looking at us with an extremely serious little expression on its face. An expression that seemed to me to be saying, "I am a sacred cow. Get out your wallet.
I can't find my car keys in the morning. Trying to get out of my house is a nightmare. 'Where's my wallet? Where are my keys? I have to go find a missing person.'
Street performers, homemade crafts, keep your wallet in your front pocket and don't buy any crap!
It may seem strange, but the most grateful I've ever felt was when I was held up at gunpoint. After I handed over my wallet and the mugger ran off into the woods, I thought, 'Thank you for not shooting me.' I was overwhelmingly glad to be alive and unharmed.
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