A sensation, hidden in the depths of my emotional memory, was suddenly revived: what if... What if for me The Variation is not dead? If The Variation is alive?!
It may be a brief interruption - just a few seconds - but what if someone sitting near you is trying to make a decent bootleg? Did you ever think of that? Now all those street-corner copies are permanently defiled by your so-called 'emergency.' Don't be so damn selfish.
What if i fail?" ...the more profound question is, "what if i never fail?" "Stop making excuses and start managing your fear.
... don't let your elders and supposed betters tell you any different. Sure, you've never been to Paris. No, you never ran with the bulls at Pamploma. Yes, you're a pissant who had no hair in your armpits until three years ago - but so what? If you don't start out too big for your britches, how are you gonna fill 'em when you grow up? Let it rip regardless of what anybody tells you, that's my idea; sit down an smoke that baby.
What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home?
What if I travel so far away in my dreams that I can't get back in time to wake up?
Individuals have rights and there are things no person or group may do to them (without violating their rights). So strong and far-reaching are these rights that they raise the question of what, if anything, the state and its officials may do. How much room do individual rights leave for the state?
I don’t think there's ever been a point in my career where I've said, 'I've made it.' What does that mean, 'I've made it?' Made it to what? If you say, 'I've made it.' then are you finished? I don't want to be finished. I don't want to quit.
What if we could make energy do our work without working our undoing?
What if we just acknowledged that we have a bad relationship, and we stuck it out, anyway? What if we admitted that we make each other nuts, we fight constantly and hardly ever have sex, but we can't live without each other, so we deal with it? And then we could spend our lives together - in misery, but happy to not be apart.
What if Jesus was the only normal person who ever lived?
And what if---what are you if the people who are supposed to love you can leave you like you're nothing?
What if everything you believe is wrong and you could still be loved and still be forgiven?
As they used to say 'What if they gave a war and nobody came?' How worthwhile if they declared a day of peace and everybody came.
What if, along with our 'to do' list, we had a 'to be' list too?
What if you could be anything, or anybody, you chose to be? Think about it. What would you choose to be?
Until that time, her betrayals had filled her with excitement and joy, because they opened up new paths to new adventures of betrayal. But what if the paths came to an end? One could betray one's parents, husband, country, love, but when parents, husband, country, and love were gone - what was left to betray?
We'd like to be humble...but what if no one notices?
When I was younger, I thought that the key to success was just hard work. But the real foundation is faith. Faith - the idea that 'I can do it' - is the opposite of fear ('What if I fail?'). And faith creates motivation which in turn leads to commitment, hard work, preparation ... and eventually success.
If churches saw their mission in the same way, there is no telling what might happen. What if people were invited to come tell what they already know of God instead of to learn what they are supposed to believe? What if they were blessed for what they are doing in the world instead of chastened for not doing more at church? What if church felt more like a way station than a destination? What if the church’s job were to move people out the door instead of trying to keep them in, by convincing them that God needed them more in the world than in the church?
What if things happened to you—special, magic things—because you’d been preparing for them?
What if loving something means you should mostly feel frustrated and thwarted? And then a little ruined, too, by the pursuit? But you keep coming back for more?
I don't think we should speak so much. What if we were singing a song? We split, whilst singing.
What if angry vectors veer Round your sleeping head, and form. There's never need to fear Violence of the poor world's abstract storm.
Searching for the self when I was entirely alone was hazardous. What if I found not so much a great emptiness as a space full of unpleasant contents, a compound of long-hidden truths, closeted, buried, forgotten. When I went looking, I was playing a desperate game of hide-and-seek, fearful of what I might find, most afraid that I would find nothing.
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