There are a lot of myths about my injuries. They say I have broken every bone in my body. Not true. But I have broken 35 bones. I had surgery 14 times to pin and plate. I shattered my pelvis. I forget all of the things that have broke.
At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.
This little patch of earth and this little pile of stones I can wash the dust from off my face and skin But this earth is in my bones
I woke up, a bag of bones. Literally. They had gathered up my bones and put them in a bag and thrown the bag into a river.
You shake a slogan at an American and it's just like showing a hungry dog a bone.
I feel just as creative focusing on just the sounds and getting the photographic representation of where the sounds should be. But it's all the same bag of bones for me. It's hard for me to compartmentalize production and engineering, and that's why I can't produce things unless I'm also recording. It's very tactile. I need my hands in the dirt.
Comedy, your funny bone, is formed in childhood.
People make a grievous error thinking that a list of facts is the truth. Facts are just the bare bones out of which truth is made.
Even a blind dog can find a bone every so often.
Here's my definition of a great beach read - a fabulous story that sucks me in like a black hole and when it's over, it jettisons my bones across the galaxy with a hair on fire mission to convince everyone I know that they must read that book or they will die.
Flesh forgets. Bone remembers.
Could it be. . . that the hero is one who is willing to set out, take the first step, shoulder something? Perhaps the hero is one who puts his foot upon a path not knowing what he may expect from life but in some way feeling in his bones that life expects something of him.
I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.
I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.
My own apathy is bone chilling.
What does a river like the Vistula carry away with it? Everything that goes to pieces: wood, glass, pencils, pacts. . . chairs, bones, and sunsets too. What had long been forgotten rose to memory, floating on its back or stomach, with the help of the Vistula.
The ocean moans over dead men's bones.
FEMA I always thought was a bone here in your ass.
Everyone that works behind a desk wants to know how many bones I've broken and how much money I make. It seems that people who've never experienced the excitement of sport seem to think the only thing worth taking risks for is money.
Abuse is abuse; Be nice. . Harsh words don't break bones but they often break hearts.