I hate the way you talk to me And the way you cut your hair I hate the way you drive my car I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots And the way you read my mind I hate you so much It makes me sick It even makes me rhyme I hate the way you're always right I hate it when you lie I hate it when you make me laugh Even worse when you make me cry I hate it when you're not around And the fact you didn't call But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you Not even close Not even a little bit Not even at all
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Et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon. La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu.
(Und von Fehlschlag zu Fehlschlag gewöhnt man sich daran, niemals über den Entwurf hinauszukommen. Das Leben ist nichts weiter als das Proben für eine Vorstellung, die niemals stattfindet.)
You're got to give a little more than you take You've got to leave a little more than was here You may be prideful of the strides you will make But keep one thing clear: You're just a player in a much bigger plan And still you have to give it all you can The very measure of your soul is at stake You've got to give a little more than you take
Parting your soup is not a miracle Bruce, it's a magic trick. A single mom who's working two jobs, and still finds time to take her son to soccer practice, that's a miracle. A teenager who says "no" to drugs and "yes" to an education, that's a miracle. People want me to do everything for them. What they don't realize is they have the power. You want to see a miracle, son? Be the miracle.
Other people want idiotic crap like getting married and having babies with the man they've loved for five years. But not me, Bruce! Just give me the boat!
Just realize that things aren't ever what you hoped they'd be. Not ever. For anybody. The only thing that separates one kind of person from another is that there are some who stay angry about it and there are some who accept what comes their way.
I hate the way you talk to me And the way you cut your hair I hate the way you drive my car I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots And the way you read my mind I hate you so much It makes me sick It even makes me rhyme I hate the way you're always right I hate it when you lie I hate it when you make me laugh Even worse when you make me cry I hate it when you're not around And the fact you didn't call But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you Not even close Not even a little bit Not even at all