Bruce Forsyth Quotes
I have no plans to rock myself to sleep in my bath chair yet.
Bruce Forsyth
Quotes to Explore
-
Rock and roll doesn't necessarily mean a band. It doesn't mean a singer, and it doesn't mean a lyric, really. It's that question of trying to be immortal.
Malcolm Mclaren
-
I listen to crazy, robust rock music where they sing their faces off, and soul music, which can be similar.
Adam Lambert
-
The things that drive me are poverty, and pain, and knowing that I don't want to end up being alone and I want to do something with my life and I want the name Dobson to remain in everyone's heads. Basically, just to rock and be the best performer I can be, and be true, and be real, and give people the real Fefe, nothing fake, all real.
Fefe Dobson
-
Gibson has been making the finest electric guitars the world has ever witnessed for over 70 years. They are as American as God, guns and rock and roll.
Ted Nugent
-
Rock was always part of my heart and soul. But the times just changed and everybody wanted to dance.
Narada Michael Walden
-
Sure, we've had our fair share of ups and downs, but I don't know if we've had more than any other rock band... we just have a way of getting ourselves into hot water.
Carl Wilson
-
The Washington establishment think Republicans win elections by you don't stand for anything, you keep your head down, you don't rock the boat. You know what? Every time we do that, we get clobbered in the polls.
Ted Cruz
-
'We Will Rock You' is one of my favorite shows. I first saw it when I was a student at the Royal Academy and loved it.
Rachel Tucker
-
If we're on long-haul flights I've been known to sleep on the floor so I hear the engine.
Wayne Rooney
-
Sleep - the most beautiful experience in life - except drink.
W. C. Fields
-
I began with dance, doing ballet at 3, then tap, jazz, modern. Then I sang in church choirs, learned how to play clarinet and drums, sang with rock bands and only then did I get into musical theatre.
Samantha Barks
-
Her left hand reminded her of its existence, and she looked round to see what was scratching the heel of her hand. It was a tiny thistle, crouched in a crack in the sandstone, barely lifting its colorless spikes into the light and wind. It nodded stiffly as the wind blew, resisting the wind, rooted in rock. She gazed at it for a long time.
Ursula K. Le Guin
