Wind Quotes
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The thing I love about golf is that it's all on me. I can't blame another player, the wind, or even blame a bad round on one chunked shot. It's not subjective at all. Meanwhile, acting is very subjective. I can be the best actor and not get the job.
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Wind is the loving Wooer of waters; Wind blends together Billows all-foaming. Spirit of man, Thou art like unto water! Fortune of man, Thou art like unto wind!
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My mom does mine because I know I would go tweezer-crazy and wind up with no eyebrows at all.
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Like every Southern writer, I thought that I needed to write the next 'Gone With the Wind.'
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When I first came out with my fans and the wind hit me, I almost took off.
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Sometimes, I'm driving along in my car, and a song from my high-school years comes on the radio: Springsteen's 'Thunder Road.' Just the opening few chords make me want to roll down the window and let the wind blow back my hair.
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The spoken word vanished with the wind. Likewise, the unrecorded life disappears as if it never existed.
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Anything can become a musical sound. The wind on telegraph wires is a great sound; get it into your machine and play it and it becomes interesting.
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Every real thought on every real subject knocks the wind out of somebody or other.
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If you think you're hearing something and you can't think what it is. If you feel a quiet longing lift your heart into the wind. There you'll find my kindred spirit. There you'll meet me as a friend. It is just a kindred spirit and a song to let you in.
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Asia is the continent rhythm forgot. At best Asian music is off-brand American pop, like Sonny Bono in a karaoke bar. At worst Asian music sounds as if a truck full of wind chimes collided with a stack of empty oil drums during a birdcall contest.
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If I'm going to wind up playing left, I want to be the best left fielder in the game. I'll work to be that.
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This is what I have heard at last the wind in December lashing the old trees with rain unseen rain racing along the tiles under the moon wind rising and falling wind with many clouds trees in the night wind.
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Re-wind when the crowd say Bo' Selecta ** song Artful Dodger Feat. Craig David - Re-Rewind
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Luckily, there is a wind of change happening in Hindi cinema. Good work is coming to people who are not conventionally good looking like Ranbir Kapoor or Akshay Kumar.
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People may think I'm crazy, but one of the ways I like to wind down my Friday is to get some of our household chores done, whether it's cleaning or doing a big food shop, so the house is all nice for the weekend.
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Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England ... Lilacs in dooryards Holding quiet conversation with an early moon; Lilacs watching a deserted house; ... Lilacs, wind-beaten, staggering under a lopsided shock of bloom, You are everywhere.
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...wings—-vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.
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I had been feeling a little rum. I didn't think it was anything serious because years ago I felt a lump and it was benign. I assumed this would be too. It kind of takes the wind out of your sails, and I don't know what the future holds, if anything.
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The cold north wind which bows to earthThe lightness of the willow's birthBends not the mountain cedar trees;Folding their branches from the breeze,They stand as if they could defyThe utmost rage of storm and sky.
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By and large, I'm in the same boat as other inventors. If we're lucky, of the 10 or 15 items we do a year, maybe one or two of them wind up with a licensing agreement.
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I became a novelist because of 'Gone With the Wind,' or more precisely, my mother raised me up to be a 'Southern' novelist, with a strong emphasis on the word 'Southern' because 'Gone With the Wind' set my mother's imagination ablaze when she was a young girl growing up in Atlanta.
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I'd read somewhere that nine out of ten adults in Alaska had a drinking problem. I could believe it. Snow, ice, sleet, wind, the dark night of the soul: what else were you supposed to do?
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How long can men thrive between walls of brick, walking on asphalt pavements, breathing the fumes of coal and oil, growing, working, dying, with hardly a thought of wind, and sky, and fields of grain, seeing only machine-made beauty, the mineral-like quality of life?
