Life is very short and there's no time, for fussing and fighting my friend. I have always thought that it's a crime, so I will ask you once again: try to see it my way, only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong. While you see it your way, there's a chance that we might fall apart before too long. We can work it out.
LIFE IS VERY SHORT, AND THERE'S NO TIME FOR FUSSING AND FIGHTING, MY FRIEND. I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT IT'S A CRIME, SO I WILL ASK YOU ONCE AGAIN. TRY TO SEE IT MY WAY, ONLY TIME WILL TELL IF I AM RIGHT OR I AM WRONG. WHILE YOU SEE IT YOUR WAY THERE'S A CHANCE THAT WE MIGHT FALL APART BEFORE TOO LONG. WE CAN WORK IT OUT, WE CAN WORK IT OUT. LIFE IS VERY SHORT, AND THERE'S NO TIME FOR FUSSING AND FIGHTING, MY FRIEND. I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT IT'S A CRIME, SO I WILL ASK YOU ONCE AGAIN. TRY TO SEE IT MY WAY, ONLY TIME WILL TELL IF I AM RIGHT OR I AM WRONG. WHILE YOU SEE IT YOUR WAY THERE'S A CHANCE THAT WE MIGHT FALL APART BEFORE TOO LONG. WE CAN WORK IT OUT, WE CAN WORK IT OUT.
I want you to notice nature, how geese are in flight and they form a V in a leadership role... The lead goose, when he gets tired of flapping his wings, he drops to the back and the next goose comes up front. Without stopping, without fussing, without whining. He becomes that next leader, he or she, that's what we have to do.
Maybe I should have got some chili-slaw dogs from Shorty's. Everybody loves those.' 'Buddy, ' Lars said, dropping his shoes to the deck with a thump, 'sit yourself down and stop fussing. You're reminding me of my Aunt Glynna with all this temperature takin' and foil tuckin'. This food is fine.
Mary Jane Hathaway
Mom always said people worried too much about their children. Suffering when you're young is good for you, she said. It immunized your body and your soul, and that was why she ignored us kids when we cried. Fussing over children who cry only encouraged them, she told us. That's positive reinforcement for negative behavior.
Girls like guys to be a challenge. It gives them some mold to fit in how they act. Like a mom. What would a mom do if she couldn't fuss over you and make you clean your room? And what would you do without her fussing and making you do it? Everyone needs a mom. And a mom knowns this. And it gives her a sense of purpose. You get it?
The extension of power offered by a pony, the ease and speed of movement, the tapping of unsuspected courage, the satisfaction of collaboration with another creature and of controlling it in order to improve the collaboration, the joy of fussing over it - of loving it - these, from the age of about eight to sixteen were the most completely realised delights of my life.
Creativity itself doesn't care at all about results - the only thing it craves is the process. Learn to love the process and let whatever happens next happen, without fussing too much about it. Work like a monk, or a mule, or some other representative metaphor for diligence. Love the work. Destiny will do what it wants with you, regardless.
The child thinks of growing old as an almost obscene calamity, which for some mysterious reason will never happen to itself. All who have passed the age of thirty are joyless grotesques, endlessly fussing about things of no importance and staying alive without, so far as the child can see, having anything to live for. Only child life is real life.
Marcus stood at the mantel mirror, fussing with his lace cuffs, adjusting his cravat and openly admiring his reflection. 'I'll beguile her with the full power of my persuasive charm.' 'And should that fail?' Marcus turned to his secretary with a slow, devious grin. 'Why, Nick, I'd have thought it obvious. I'll just have to ruin her.' -A BREACH OF PROMISE
And oh, how she pitched herself into things. She would draw pictures all day long for weeks on end, then throw out the pencils and never draw another thing. Then it was embroidery with her, she had to learn it, and she'd make the most beautiful thing, fussing at herself for the least little mistake, then throw down the needles and be done with that forevermore. I never saw a child so changeable. It was as though she was looking for something to which she could give herself, and she never found it. Least ways not while she was a little girl.
One nice thing about my momma is, she never gets on you for what you are not doing. I mean, she never looks away from the things you do only to notice what isn't on the plan. This is the most important thing in getting along with...anybody, and I can tell you because I copy it from her and it makes good sense. You don't go looking at the things people don't do, when they already be doing plenty in other areas. If your son collects stamps, why you want to go fussing at him because he doesn't play the clarinet? Check out his stamps, man.
Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. 'Is she asleep?' He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. 'Aye, I'm a-thinkin' she is-she's stopped fussin' at me.' Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. 'She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!' He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. 'Ye've taught the child to bully me, too, now?' 'Oh, no, ' she said hastily, embarrassed. Did he really think she bullied him? What a silly notion!
A good social system is not to be secured by making people unselfish, but, by making their own vital impulses fit in with other peoples. This is feasible. Those who have produced stoic philosophies have all had enough to eat and drink. I feel I shall find the truth on my deathbed and be surrounded by people too stupid to understand""fussing about medicines instead of searching for wisdom. I hate being all tidy like a book in a library where nobody reads "" prison is horribly like that.
The result of observing only the universe is anxiety. Only observing the Observer of the universe will put a stop to a man's worrying and fussing and scheming. When his interest is diverted inwards he naturally relaxes his hold - his stranglehold - on the outer world. Having withdrawn his capital and paid it into his own Central Bank (where it appreciates to infinity), he has nothing to lose out there and no reason for interfering. He knows how to let things be and work out in their own time. He's in no hurry. Knowing the Self, he can hardly fail to trust its products.
I realize I have a lot of amazing opportunities, but I don't know how you can play a human being going through real human experiences without being able to walk down the street. If you can't live a real life, how do you play a real person? It always confuses me when actors work back-to-back-to-back with no break. If you live your life on a film set, how the hell can you relate to real people? You don't know what its like to not have people fussing over you all day, and that's not life - that's silly movies. I will always want to take breaks and I wouldn't be OK with losing that.
The Doctor: [hologram, speaking towards the console] This is Emergency Programme One. Rose, now listen, this is important. If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing: we must be in danger, and I mean fatal. I'm dead, or about to die any second with no chance of escape. Rose Tyler: No! The Doctor: And that's OK, I hope it's a good death. But I promised to look after you, and that's what I'm doin'. The TARDIS is takin' you home. Rose Tyler: I won't let you. The Doctor: And I bet you're fussing and moaning now, typical. But hold on, and just listen a bit more. The TARDIS can never return for me. Emergency Programme One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hooves on this machine. So this is what you should do: let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it, no one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world will move on, and the box will be buried. And if you wanna remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all, one thing. The Doctor: [hologram turns to face Rose, and with a full voice] Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life.
Russell T. Davies
It was Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the television series, 1997-2003, not the lackluster movie that preceded it) that blazed the trail for Twilight and the slew of other paranormal romance novels that followed, while also shaping the broader urban fantasy field from the late 1990s onward. Many of you reading this book will be too young to remember when Buffy debuted, so you'll have to trust us when we say that nothing quite like it had existed before. It was thrillingly new to see a young, gutsy, kick-ass female hero, for starters, and one who was no Amazonian Wonder Woman but recognizably ordinary, fussing about her nails, her shoes, and whether she'd make it to her high school prom. Buffy's story contained a heady mix of many genres (fantasy, horror, science-fiction, romance, detective fiction, high school drama), all of it leavened with tongue-in-cheek humor yet underpinned by the serious care with which the Buffy universe had been crafted. Back then, Whedon's dizzying genre hopping was a radical departure from the norm-whereas today, post-Buffy, no one blinks an eye as writers of urban fantasy leap across genre boundaries with abandon, penning tender romances featuring werewolves and demons, hard-boiled detective novels with fairies, and vampires-in-modern-life sagas that can crop up darn near anywhere: on the horror shelves, the SF shelves, the mystery shelves, the romance shelves.