When we're recovering from a spiritual fumble, we must realize everyone does stupid stuff. No one is exempt. An occasional misstep doesn't brand us as stupid-it makes us real. God loves us regardless of our mishaps. After a fumble, do as any good football player would. Fight to recover what you lost, get back into the game, and let the Creator turn your loss into a gain. With Him, in spite of our fumbles we can rise to great heights.
For me, it's not about sacking the quarterback. It's about changing the course of the game. It's causing a crucial fumble at a crucial time. It's making a tackle for a loss when the opposing team needs to gain one or two yards for the first down. I look at myself as a sudden-impact player.
What you describe is how it happens to everyone: magic does slide through you, and disappear, and come back later looking like something else. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but where your magic lives will always be a great dark space with scraps you fumble for. You must learn to sniff them out in the dark.
I don't watch football anymore, I gave that up. I got tired of the interviews after the games, because the winning players always give credit to God, and the losers blame themselves. You know, just once I'd like to hear a player say, 'Yeah, we were in the game, until Jesus made me fumble. He hates our team.
If you want the light, like you say you do, then why do you keep it strangled in the dark? If you preach love, like you strive to, why do you run away from practising? My love, the universe you fumble for doesn't exist, if you don't start from within. Before you, all that I can be is eyes and heart. And all that I can do is to remain by your side, for I can't love you any less than the more I do now.
In real life, people fumble their words. They repeat themselves and stare blankly off into space and don't listen properly to what other people are saying. I find that kind of speech fascinating but screenwriters never write dialogue like that because it doesn't look good on the page.
Anyone who has played the game professionally, you're always taught that the ball is the most important, most precious thing, so when the ball hits the ground, it's always a mad scramble. It's amazing how many times there is a fumble, and the person who recovers it initially doesn't walk away with the ball.
Your music can be played easily and well by any half-stringed harper or fumble-fingered idiot. Not that I'm maligning your songs. It's just that they're an entirely different kettle of fish-to use a seamanly metaphor-to Domick's. Don't you judge your songs against his standard! More people have already listened to your melodies and liked them than will ever hear Domick's, much less like them.
It's an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you've been and whats happened. In the end, you're just happy you were there- with your eyes open- and lived to see it.
It's an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after,you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you've been and whats happened. In the end, you're just happy you were there- with your eyes open- and lived to see it.
He was known to hit low, drive upward from the hips, and flip other boys over his shoulder and onto their backs, knocking the wind out of them on the glass-littered asphalt, sometimes causing a fumble and always inciting cheers from onlookers up and down the street-especially when he punctuated the hit with the words "Patent that!"... This permissible violence was unique in that it elicited respect from the victim rather than calls for retribution.
ARCHON KING, THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES MEDAL CROWNS, MASS IN TOTAL BLISS TONGUES OF HONEY, LINKS THE FUMBLE DIVISION NEVER IN DEFAULT, ALWAYS WITH A REASON HEART OF KING, COURAGEOUS AND BRIGHT INSPIRE ALL, PUSH THE FEARS ASIDE SEED THE MASS WITH HOPE AND RIGHTFUL WILL WIN THE CLASS, TITAN KING
If you play a game where scrap pieces of glass are at stake, you will play skillfully. If your expensive belt buckle is at stake, you'll start to get clumsy. If it's your money that's at stake, you'll fumble. It's not that you've lost your skill. It's because you are so flustered by things happening outside that you've lost your calmness inside. Lose your stillness and you will fail in everything you do.
Avalon is full of desperate people.' She bites at her lower lip this time, fumbling her hands, knitting her fingers into the bundle of plastic coin bags in her grasp. 'Are you implying that I'm desperate?' I say, one eyebrow tilting. 'You don't need to be desperate... you can have anyone... I... ' she trails off. Looking up and trying to search the line of shops for the bank. I repulse her, I make her want to run. Why is this so hard? I need to get inside of her, I need to know what she is thinking, what she is wanting. It surely isn't me she wants. Not to the extent that I... want her. 'You?' I entice her to finish her sentence but she doesn't, she stares off into the bustling crowds, memory flashing her eyes with a darkness. 'Madi wouldn't fumble like this.' Oh, she would fumble, but not in the way you are, Elli. 'You're not her, Elli.' I entice her again, trying to force the dark memory, the sadness from her. 'No, if I was, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else.' A breath hitches in her throat, she puts a hand over her mouth and says something else, her cheeks dance a shade of red that brightens and brightens until she apologises and quickens her pace. I chuckle, pulling at her arm and encircling one around her waist, pulling her back to me. Beneath my touch, her body trembles. When I raise my hand, my palm touching her cheek, I am sure she isn't breathing. 'I don't want anyone, Elli.' My eyes burn, consuming her with my gaze. She is like a frightful deer, struggling beneath me with a gaze that cannot quite meet mine. When she does, it is only for a brief second before falling down and all I see is the gentle flutter of her raven flashes. 'I told you. I want someone I cannot have.' 'That is a really harsh way of telling someone you're not interested.
Loyalty, honesty and integrity, are the breeding grounds of great character. Lacking just one of these virtues, will result in the demise of the other two. Loyalty, and honesty lie within integrity, and need one another to survive. One can be expected to fumble the ball from time to time but if their integrity lies intact, one will rebound their way to win the game. The opposite can also be said, if they lack anyone of the three. Instead of winning the game; they have surely just lost their way.
The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed glasses Harry recognized the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry realized who the man was. "Mundungus!
J. K. Rowling
A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany's pants. 'It's hers, ' I say. 'Answer it, ' Isa Instructs. I already feel like I've kidnapped the girl. Now I'm gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket. 'Contesta, ' Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish. 'I am, ' I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone. 'I'll do it, ' Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany's ass. I whack his hand away. 'Get your hands off her.' 'Geez, man, I was just tryin' to help.' My response is a glare.
I need to give you one last bit of advice in the off chance this rather extraordinary and enviable situation in which you find yourself is actually true- that somehow you've fallen deep down into a Cordova story. I stared back at him. Be the good guy, he said. How do I know I'm the good guy? He pointed at me, nodding. A very wise question. You don't. Most bad guys think they're good. But there are a few signifiers. You'll be miserable. You'll be hated. You'll fumble around in the dark, alone and confused. You'll have little insight as to the true nature of things, not until the very last minute, and only if you have the stamina and the madness to go to the very, very end. But most importantly- and critically- you will act without regard for yourself. You'll be motivated by something that has nothing to do with the ego. You'll do it for justice. For grace. For love. Those large rather heroic qualities only the good have the strength to carry on their shoulders. And you'll listen.
I'M GOIN ALL OUT KID NO TURNBACKS YOU COULD TRY TO FRONT, GET SMOKED AND THAT'S THAT LYRIC ASSASSIN, DRESSED IN BLACK BUGGIN SIXTEEN SHOTS TO YOUR MUG, FROM A SLUG THEN I GO TO WAR IN A CONRETE JUNGLE, MAKE THE PUNT CAUSE NIGGAZ ACT FUNNY, AND FUMBLE BUT I RELAX, COUNT MY SHELLS, A LOT OF HEADS GOTTA FLY NIGGAZ STAY STRAPPED, ARMED TO DIE TIME FOR JET-BLACK TIM BOOT, FLOWIN WHA-SU GOD GET HIM, HIT EM WITH THE NINE TROOP NO QUESTION, CHA-CHA-BLOW IN THE SESSION BLOODSHOT IN THAT DIRECTION, CYPHER *BELL RINGS* 'TACK YOU LIKE CHESS MOVES BEST MOVE YO, YEAH, YO THE BOARDS, YOUR ASS 'TACK, 'TACK, 'TACK, UH! *BELL RINGS* 'TACK THE BOARDS LIKE CHESS MOVES BEST MOVE AT RAE THROUGH, COMIN AT YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN CREW LIVE DIRECT, YEAH YOU BETTER STEP GUNSHOTS RING ON THE SET, LET'S JET MOTIVATE, TO THE GATE WITH SOME QUICK HIGH RAE STAY FLY, AND ROB YOUR ISLE AIRWAVES, YO BEHAVE NOW YOU'RE A SLAVE WITH THE BOOTS THAT PAVED THE WAY *BELL RINGS THREE TIMES* AHH SHIT!
Method Man F/ Raekwon
SHINNING RIGHT THROUGH LIKE A SUNROOF, THEN COLLECT FRUITS FOR YOUR LABOR STAY HUMBLE, A MAN BEING FOOD TO THE TABLE NEVER FUMBLE SO I HAVE A FEAST ON YOU RAPPERS WHATCHU WANNA DO ALWAYS GOT THE DIESEL WRAPPED UP, THAT'S A FRONTAL KEEP IT PRE ROLLED I DON'T KNOW WHATCHU WANNA DO LIKE THE BEAST COAST SAY IT LOUD WHEN I COME THROUGH SMELLING WEED SMOKE, SHE AROUSED SHE GET PLOWED TOO UH, GOLDEN PROPHECY BESTOWED ON TOP OF ME, THE GLOBE I CONQUER AND THERE AIN'T NO STOPPING ME CREATE A MONSTER, WHEN YOU SPRAY ON TOP OF BEATS, GOT NO TIME FOR BEATS ONLY CURRENCY AND THAT GLOBAL PEACE, WHATCHU WANT FROM ME? GET THE FUCK UP OUT MY FACE HO KNOW I'M POPPING BUT HO GON' STOP IT I KNOW YOU AFTER MY BANK-ROLL STORIES SICKENING BUT I STAY ON MY VISION, BETTER KNOW THYSELF BEFORE YOU FALL AS A VICTIM COPPERS CLOCK AND TREAT MY HEAD LIKE A PRISON BETTER USE THIRD OPTICS ON YOUR ROAD TO THE RICHES I'M NIGGA BE SINNING, BUT WE ALL GROW UP AIN'T THAT THE PURPOSE OF LIVING? SPREAD THAT LOVE ONCE IT RETURN NOW YOU'RE WINNING POP THAT BUB AND CELEBRATE EVERY MINUTE, OFTEN SO WHEN YOU SEE ME YEAH I'M TRIPPING I'M ON BUD SO YOU CAN NEVER CATCH ME SLIPPING, THREE, FOUR GIRLS, SHAQUILLE O'NEILL WHEN I'M PIMPING SO SHE KNOW I'M ALWAYS DOWN TO PUT A TIP IN PATTIN' FLOWS NOW I'M RUNNING THE OBSTACLES, LITTLE BIT AWKWARD THOUGH SMOKE DRO, KILL SHOWS WHEN MY CHAKRAS GLOW SAME NIGGA DIFFERENT CLOTHES WITH A LOT OF DOUGH HIGHER PURPOSE, HIGHER LEARNING EARN IT WITH THAT FIRE BURNING INSIDE YA, GIVE MIND A TURN AND EMPIRES WILL