bolhom

subota, 24.07.2010.

I feel about airplanes the way I feel about diets. It seems to me they are wonderful things for other people to go on.

Feet, why do I need them if I have wings to fly?
It's not the hours you put in your work that counts, it's the work you put in the hours.
I don't like composers who think. It gets in the way of their plagiarism.
The roses, the lovely notes, the dining and dancing are all welcome and splendid. But when the Godiva is gone, the gift of real love is having someone who'll go the distance with you. Someone who, when the wedding day limo breaks down, is willing to share a seat on the bus.
Only some people get what they want. Those are the people who show up to get it.
Nobody is ever met at the airport when beginning a new adventure. It's just not done.
Worrying about them always struck me as about as useful as worrying about getting hit by lightning.

Ovaj blog je ustupljen pod Creative Commons licencom Imenovanje-Dijeli pod istim uvjetima.

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