In February 2003, I signed a three-year contract with MSNBC to host a talk show. Having recently decided not to run again for governor of Minnesota, I was still a pretty hot commodity. The show was originally scheduled for an hour, four nights a week.
I find daily life not always joyous, but always interesting. I have some sad days and nights, but none that are dull. As I advance deeper into the vale of years, I live with constantly increasing gusto and excitement. I am sure it all means something; in the last analysis, I am an optimist because I believe in God. Those who have no faith are quite naturally pessimists and I do not blame them.
Invariably our best nights were those when it rained.
Real estate is my life. It is my day job, if you will. But it consumes my nights and weekends, too.
If it wasn't for O'Flanagan's Pub on Manhattan's Upper East Side, I don't know where I would have spent my Friday nights as a young man.
The darkest nights produce the brightest stars.
My mother didn't get home until about seven most nights and, yes, there was a sense of being very alone after school. She gave me all the proper guidance and influences, but physically, she just couldn't be there.
I was one of Them: the Strange Ones. The Funny People. The Odd Tribes of autograph collectors and photographers. The Ones who waited through long days and nights, who used other people's dreams for their lives.
I think a lot of nights together have been spoiled by somebody not being able to find a parking spot and saying, "Why don't we just go home?"
Nights in white satin never reaching the end Letters I've written never meaning to send Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before Just what the truth is I can't say any more Cause I love you Yes I love you Oh how I love you
Seek happy nights to happy days. W
It's at my mom's house! She keeps everything. We were talking about it the other day - I threw something away, like our passes from Hollywood Horror Nights, and she was like, "Where are they?" I was like, "I threw them out. " She was like, "You are just not the sentimental type. "
Many nights, I longed for home. But it occurred to me as I struggled for a feeling of comfort and safety: I have no idea where home is.
I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.
I cannae believe you let me touch you. ” His voice grew hoarse. “I shall remember this for all my nights. ” Tears speared into her eyes. Dearest Virgin Scribe, for all her life, she had waited for a moment like this…. “Do not cry. ” His thumb went to her cheeks. “Beautiful female of worth, do not cry.
It is always the nights you cannot remember that eventually become the stories you don’t forget.
I made over forty Westerns. I used to lie awake nights trying to think up new ways of getting on and off a horse.
The little cares, fears, tears, timid misgivings, sleepless fancies of I don't know how many days and nights, were forgotten under one moment's influence of that familiar, irresistible smile.
Last night there seemed to be a chance. Anything was possible last night. That was the trouble with last nights. They were always followed by this mornings.
It is darker in the woods, even in common nights, than most suppose.