[On the 1982 intruder into her bedroom:] I realized immediately that it wasn't a servant because they don't slam doors.
Do you normally turn up in gentlemen's bedrooms in the middle of the night? If I'd known that, I would have campaigned harder to make sure Charlotte let you stay.
My bedroom's like an armoury.
Legalizing abortion to get government out of the bedroom is like legalizing cannibalism to get government out of the kitchen.
Lacey shrugged bashfully. “Do you think I’m superficial?” “Well, yeah. ” I thought of myself standing outside Becca’s bedroom, hoping she’d take her shirt off. “But so am I,” I added. “So is everyone.
I wanted to make a very cohesive-sounding album. Anyone who has listened to me and brought me into their living rooms and their bedrooms - I am making this for them.
Fortune loves to give bedroom slippers to people with wooden legs, and gloves to those with no hands.
Many people believe the names of In 'n Out and Steak 'n Shake perfectly describe the contrast in bedroom techniques between the coast and the heartland.
I am never happier in the Lord than when I am in a bedroom with a sick person.
Like, I kind of developed my musical style in a vacuum. Even though I listen to a lot of stuff, the way I wrote was in my bedroom, really privately. It's still the way I write, actually.
She shrieked. "Nora! What happened to the banister!" Good thing she hadn't seen her bedroom yet.
It was like having a box of chocolates shut in the bedroom drawer. Until the box was empty it occupied the mind too much.
C’mon, sweetie, you can say it. (Delphine) (She moved his mouth playfully with her hands. ) You don’t suck, Delphine. I…you. C’mon, Jericho. I only bite in the bedroom. You can do this. I know you’re not really mute. (Delphine)
Until we can all present ourselves to the world in our completeness, as fully and beautifully as we see ourselves naked in our bedrooms, we are not free.
In the bedroom time I have generated thoughts, and then in the studio I take those thoughts and try to shape them into something.
There are one hundred glow-stars on my bedroom ceiling. (. . . ) Glow-stars are strange. They make the ceiling disappear.
If you're gonna fall apart, do it in your own bedroom.
My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? When the lightning strikes shadows on the bedroom wall and the rain taps at the window with its long fingernails? No. When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don't expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.
Nothing was happening in the bedroom. I nicknamed our waterbed the Dead Sea.
I am really chained to my computer these days so I work in my bedroom, which is a room I have worked in for years and years. It is just as much an office as a bedroom, and during the day, my bed is rather like an extension of my desk.