Writing doesn't come real easy to me. I couldn't write a novel in a year. It wouldn't be readable. I don't let an editor even look at it until the second year because it would just scare them. I just have to trust that all these scraps and dead-ends will find a way.
Science is always discovering odd scraps of magical wisdom and making a tremendous fuss about its cleverness.
Tonight we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation - not because of the height of our skyscrapers or the power of our military or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago.
People today are still living off the table scraps of the sixties. They are still being passed around - the music and the ideas.
I remember getting this scrapbook that this girl made that I actually gave to my mom to hold onto because she has a 'Twilight' shrine in their house in Florida. It was just this scrapbook of me starting with 'Twilight ' and the whole progression of me and my career throughout that and other stuff that I had done in between.
My mom used to say that I became a fighter and a scrapper and a tough guy to protect who I am at my core.
Some for renown on scraps of learning dote And think they grow immortal as they quote.
The number one mistake is giving pets table scraps. I made the mistake thinking I was showing my dog love by giving her food and treats. You see a tiny 4 oz. piece of cheese but for a Boston Terrier like mine that's like one and a half hamburgers. That's unhealthy.
A chair is a very difficult object. A skyscraper is almost easier. That is why Chippendale is famous.
My dad had this rock hard body and would work 12- to 13-hour days. The guys he worked with were scrap-iron guys. Nobody on that road crew had read a book in 10 years but there was something about the way they lived I really admired.
It bothers me when I hear it in a car commercial or some such. But for the most part it's better than seeing sacred music relegated to the scrap heap.
The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky from the earth from a scrap of paper from a passing shape from a spider's web.
I was able to support myself by acting alone about six years ago. Until then I was just scraping by.