Hugging trees has a calming effect on me. I’m talking about enormous trees that will be there when we are all dead and gone. I’ve hugged trees in every part of this little island.
I have lost stories and many starts of novels before. Not always as punishment for ‘telling,’ but more often as a result of something having gone cold and dead because of a hiatus. Telling, you see, is the same as a hiatus. It means you’re not doing it.
Power? It’s like a Dead Sea fruit. When you achieve it, there is nothing there.
I’m not really allowed to talk about the Dead though. I think when we are at our best, we definitely do things that the Dead or no other band could do. We explore things and take things to the extreme.
‘Reign’ is probably the oldest one on the record. I wrote that when I was 19. ‘The Dead They Don’t Come Back,’ which is the last song on the album, I wrote when I was 20, and ‘Harlem River’ I just wrote last year. It spans from 2007 to 2012.
But all lost things are in the angels’ keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth’s little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood.
If the dead talk to you, you are a spiritualist; if God talks to you, you are a schizophrenic.
The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.
If there really was a crisis, and if this crisis was caused by our emissions, you would at least see some signs. Not just flooded cities, tens of thousands of dead people, and whole nations leveled to piles of torn down buildings. You would see some restrictions. But no. And no one talks about it.
If any man, out of an humour, should turn all his Estate into Money, and keep it dead, he would soon be sensible of Poverty growing upon him, whilst he is eating out of the quick stock.
I played a lot of tough clubs in my time. Once a guy in one of those clubs wanted to bet me $10 that I was dead. I was afraid to bet.
It’s raining my soul, it’s raining, but it’s raining dead eyes.
Bruce’s band is so different from the Grateful Dead; there’s no lead guitar player, for one thing.
I, for one, hope that youth will again revolt and again demoralize the dead weight of conformity that now lies upon us.
Faith which does not doubt is dead faith.
The most bizarre thing I’ve ever read about myself is that I was dead. That was kind of weird to read that I’m dead – mostly because I was reading it.
To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.
If you think Wall Street has a short memory, you’re dead wrong. No, the folks who work on Wall Street, regulate Wall Street – and, above all, invest in its wares, notably its hedge funds – don’t have a bad memory. They don’t have any memory at all.
To be a legend, you’ve either got to be dead or excessively old!
Tombs are the clothes of the dead and a grave is a plain suit; while an expensive monument is one with embroidery.
I try and put in a weights section one day a week. I’d go to a different gym and work with a different coach: squatting, bench press, dead lifts. Just basic work. Pull-ups. Ground work. A lot of sit-ups and a lot of push-ups.
As far as Iraq, the important thing is that the Taliban is gone in Afghanistan, three-quarters of the al-Qaida leadership is either dead or in jail, and we now have Saudi Arabia working with us, Pakistan working with us.
The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question. There is wisdom and tolerance in that attitude. In a world built on sacrosanct certainties the novel is dead.
You live till you die, and that’s the end of it. What good is your legacy when you are dead? I worry about being alive, selling work, having fun, moving and doing things when I am alive.
He was a great patriot, a humanitarian, a loyal friend; provided, of course, he really is dead.
Unless their use by readers bring them to life, books are indeed dead things.
New research shows that you will be dead longer than you will be alive.
In a way, it’s my way of dealing with, finding closure with Grateful Dead music, and giving thanks in a way to Jerry and Bob and all the guys in the band for making up this wonderful music.
I am dead set against free agency. It can ruin baseball.
I tell people, ‘I was born in a little house at the dead end of a dirt road that had no name and no number, and you can go anywhere from nowhere.’
Many luckless people imagine that romance is dead: some, overcivilised, fondly suppose that there never was romance: a poet tells us that romance is unrecognised though really present: but scientists can meet him daily, walking at large and undisguised in the world.
You can give some kind of spark of life to a comic that a photograph doesn’t really have. A photograph, even if it’s connecting with you, it seems very dead on the page sometimes.
First our pleasures die – and then our hopes, and then our fears – and when these are dead, the debt is due dust claims dust – and we die too.
The poor wish to be rich, the rich wish to be happy, the single wish to be married, and the married wish to be dead.
We can’t afford to go down the dead end roads of Parliamentary Socialism or Fascistic Bolshevism.
I mean people have compared us to like the Grateful Dead and all these like psychedelic sixties bands.
Being over seventy is like being engaged in a war. All our friends are going or gone and we survive amongst the dead and the dying as on a battlefield.
Don’t look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you’ll know you’re dead.
At 140, 150, that’s when the car starts floating. At 160, that’s when you start seeing dead relatives. At 180, it’s, like, terrifying and exciting.
Most people are dead. Did you know that? It’s true, out of all the people that ever were, almost all of them are dead.
There are two kinds of pedestrians… the quick and the dead.
From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
I read on the Internet that I was dead.
There are only two kinds of men; the dead and the deadly.
The math is dead simple: it seems that the frequency of planets able to support life is roughly one percent. In other words, a billion or more such worlds exist in our galaxy alone. That’s a lot of acreage, and it takes industrial-strength credulity to believe it’s all bleakly barren.
We used to talk about wanting to get some money, but that’s when hip-hop was based on your dreams and your fantasy. The whole thing now is the dreams and fantasies were achieved, and you don’t want to make it the focal point. You can’t keep beating that dead horse.
Nothing so comforts the military mind as the maxim of a great but dead general.
Science is a cemetery of dead ideas.
