When I was a boy, I choked on a piece of candy outside the kitchen window for a few minutes while watching my parents making dinner. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't want to scare them. Our existence was so separate, a dying and a doing well, an outside and an inside. Trey Moody's poems hover in that cold, wet, refrigerator-lit place between the dying and the doing well, the outside and the inside. His poems are the thoughts of the person you love who is always standing behind you, slowly and silently suffocating. But they're not afraid to say hello, and please, and I'm scared.
If you decide you're going to do the piece, you're doing it because you love the writing.
"I'm going to show you I haven't given you permission because clearly you're not grown up enough to understand that, not having given you permission, you can't just come look in my house. " And I won't know if they're coming and looking or not. . . so I put a piece of tape over it.
For 18 months, leading up to the November election, I did everything in my power to show how ridiculous and crazy Trump's rhetoric was. I literally did a piece called "Donald Trump Is White ISIS. " But, partisanship aside, there's a huge populace of people that were like, "I hear what you're saying, but I need something to change in my life, and I would like to have a representative that I think will do that for me. "
I don't need a piece of paper to suggest that I can commit myself.
Someone is going to have to give up a piece of their pie so that someone else can have more.
Observation is like a piece of glass, which, as a mirror, must be very smooth, and must be very carefully polished, in order that it may reflect the image pure and undistorted.
I don't want to give too much away, but something horrible happens in 1977. That was also the year of the Queen's Silver Jubilee. I remember this jubilee. I remember receiving a commemorative coin from the school. I think it was a fifty pence piece. That was its monetary value, but it was not a normal fifty pence piece, and it would have been strange to try and use it in a shop.
When you're very young and you learn something - a fact, a piece of information, whatever - it doesn't connect to anything.
To me avarice seems not so much a vice as a deplorable piece of madness.
In not-for-profit theater, you don't worry so much about how the audience is going to react. You want to make them absorb the piece.
The Tiger Rising is, again, about a motherless child. His name is Rob Horton. He is dealing with the death of his mother, when he and his father move to a new town. And two things happen the same day that Rob gets sent home. One is he meets a girl named Sistine Bailey, who is what my mother would call "a piece of work," and he finds a real tiger in a cage in the woods behind the motel where he lives with his dad. And that's the story: what happens with the Sistine tiger, the real tiger and Rob's grief.
Kansas is a piece of real estate that completely disproves the theory of roundness as a quality of the planet earth.
The educational aspect of art shows has become overbearing: some of exhibits can leave you bleary from trying to read the walls. Presumably a piece of art is timeless and it can say something to us. You are taking away the right of art to talk for itself.
We're all a piece of the puzzle. It's a weird puzzle and it looks odd, but we all fit in it.
I like to play the piano with lyrics as if it was a piece of love letter.
Life's no piece of cake, mind you, but the recipe's my own to fool with.
Really, how bad is eating a piece of cake? Being bad is murdering someone. That's bad. Don't do that.
The melody is generally what the piece is all about.
A piece of cloth that is called "linen" has more validity than calling you and me "black" or "negro. " "Cotton" has more validity as cotton than yours and my being "black. "