Richard Matheson Quotes
He pretended it was the only thing that kept him from it. But, far back in his mind, he wondered if he could write anything. Often the question threw itself at him when he was least expecting it. You have four hours every morning, the statement would rise like a menacing wraith. You have time to write many thousands of words. Why don't you? And the answer was always lost in a tangle of becauses and wells and endless reasons that he clung to like a drowning man at straws.
Quotes to Explore
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I hate jeans for no reason.
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Cultural tourism surveys consistently rate San Francisco's art industry as a core reason for visiting.
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Sometimes in the morning, when it's a good surf, I go out there, and I don't feel like it's a bad world.
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Mark Zuckerberg needs no introduction these days, what with all the magazine covers and morning news shows. My mother knows who he is now, and my mother can hardly turn on a computer.
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Common perceptions of female friendships are morning coffees discussing children, bags, periods and agreeing about the misdemeanours of men... mild, soft, nurturing relationships.
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Nothing is divine but what is agreeable to reason.
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In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.
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If you ask me what I worry about every morning when I wake up, it's that I don't understand future mainstream Internet users' habits.
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I wanted kids to know that it's cool to be in a ski race in the morning and to go play in the terrain park in the afternoon. It's not one or the other.
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The problem with marriage is that it ends every night after making love, and it must be rebuilt every morning before breakfast.
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I saturate freshly washed hair with thickening spray (R+Co). Then, using a Denman/styler brush and my Parlux, I brush and blow-dry the hair all over my head, in every direction, until it's 80 percent dry. This gives atomic body and a great foundation for styling in the morning.
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As a songwriter you have an umbilical cord to the song and it's hard to expand on your understanding of the lyrics. Whereas when you cover a song you can create your own reason why you're attached to it.
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I was taught that to create anything you had to believe in failure, simply because you had to be prepared to go through an idea without any fear. Failure, you learned, as I did in art school, to be a wonderful thing. It allowed you to get up in the morning and take the pillow off your head.
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The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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A woman's love is like the morning dew. It's just as likely to settle on a horse turd as a rose.
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And in the morning when the sun rise.Look in the water, see the blue sky.As if heaven has been laid there at our feet.
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Though Rather is congenitally bad – an admirable heir to Walter Cronkite and his special form of treasonous broadcasting – more insidious are certain chirpy girl-next-door morning TV hosts who characterize the beliefs of ordinary middle-class Americans in terms that would make Goebbels blush.
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I didn't want to be an actress; I never thought of being an actress because, as children, there were three of us - I was the middle child - and we spent our time in church from Sunday morning to Saturday night.
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I really like to have a moment alone at the house, either in the morning or when I come home from work, when I can just zone out at my computer, relax, stare out the window, get into a 'Game of Thrones' episode, go up on my roof, whatever, then go out to dinner.
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They're still in the game, and they're trying to get back into it.
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Not to mention the fact that of course terrorists hate freedom. I think they do hate. But believe me, I don't think they sit there abstractly hating freedom.
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.
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He pretended it was the only thing that kept him from it. But, far back in his mind, he wondered if he could write anything. Often the question threw itself at him when he was least expecting it. You have four hours every morning, the statement would rise like a menacing wraith. You have time to write many thousands of words. Why don't you? And the answer was always lost in a tangle of becauses and wells and endless reasons that he clung to like a drowning man at straws.
