Baseball has traditionally possessed a wonderful lack of seriousness. The game's best player, Babe Ruth, was a Rabelaisian fat man, and its most loved manager, Casey Stengel, spoke gibberish. In this lazy sport, only the pitcher pours sweat. Then he takes three days off.
The sweat of hard work is not to be displayed. It is much more graceful to appear favored by the gods.
Nothing comes easily. My work smells of sweat.
In front of excellence, the immortal gods have put sweat, and long and steep is the way to it.
What is easy to read has been difficult to write. The labour of writing and rewriting, correcting and recorrecting, is the due exacted by every good book from its author, even if he knows from the beginning exactly what he wants to say. A limpid style is invariably the result of hard labour, and the easily flowing connection of sentence with sentence and paragraph with paragraph has always been won by the sweat of the brow.
Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.
No person ever died by drowning in their own sweat.
I'm constantly feeding my metabolism. But at the same time if I want to go one night and have a nice dinner then I won't sweat it the next day.
Happy people learn that happiness, like sweat, is a by-product of activity.
I sweat real sweat and I shake real shakes.
This means a lot. I'm being recognized for all the blood, sweat and tears I put into a 17-year career.
Here's a two step formula for handling stress. Step number one: Don't sweat the small stuff. Step number two: Remember it's all small stuff.
A true champion is one who sweats from exhaustion when no one is watching.
I'll be totally honest in that I feel tremendously lucky that I am offered incredible jobs all the time to direct, but the problem that I have just personally is that there are only so many years in my life to dedicate to certain projects. When you're directing something that's generally two years of your life, you have to understand that. If I'm going to pour that kind of love and energy and sweat and heartache, all that juju into something, I'm going to lean into my own projects before someone else's.
as I write, Johnny Rotten's first moments in "Anarchy in the U. K. "-a rolling earthquake of a laugh, a buried shout, then hoary words somehow stripped of all claptrap and set down in the city streets-I AM AN ANTICHRIST-Remain as powerful as anything I know. Listening to the record today-listening to the way Johnny Rotten tears at his lines, and then hurls the pieces at the world; recalling the all-consuming smile he produced as he sang-my back stiffens; I pull away even as my scalp begins to sweat.
White Hot Concentration is the unappreciated fruit of hard ligting, especially squats. When your in the squat rack, with a serious amount of weight overhead, your life literally depends on maintaining concentration. You learn to block out the swirling images in the mirror, the obnoxious chatter of the people next to you, the fat drop of sweat running down your nose. Once you've mastered this concentration in the weight room, duplicating it on the race course is relatively easy. Champions have only a few things in common. One weapon they all possess is White Hot Concentration.
you see what I'm saying?" Mooner said. "Something else always comes along. You go to jail, you don't have to worry about anything. No rent to pay. No food bill to sweat. Free dental plan. And that's worth something, dude. You don't wnat to stick your nose up at free dental.
First comes the sweat. Then comes the beauty if you're very lucky and have said your prayers.
If you find your life of prayer to be always so short, and so easy, and so spiritual, as to be without cost and strain and sweat to you, you may depend upon it, you have not yet begun to pray.
My God, this novel makes me break out in a cold sweat! Do you know how much I've written in five months, since the end of August? Sixty-five pages! Each paragraph is good in itself and there are some pages that are perfect. I feel certain. But just because of this, it isn't getting on. It's a series of well-turned, ordered paragraphs which do not flow on from each other. I shall have to unscrew them, loosen the joints, as one does with the masts of a ship when one wants the sail to take more wind.