#fingers

My son now is 22 months old, he's been playing since he was 12 months old and he gets standing ovations on the drums. He's been with us since he was 10 weeks old, he's been on the drums. He's got blisters on his fingers before he can even talk. ↗

— Dick Dale

#before #blisters #drums #even #fingers

I'm not good enough to be playin' much acoustic guitar onstage. Man, you gotta get so right; I mean, the tones, the feel, the sound. Plus, acoustic blues guitar is just that much harder on the fingers. ↗

— Johnny Winter

#acoustic guitar #blues #enough #feel #fingers

My fingers used to hurt really bad when I played guitar. I stopped because of it. ↗

— Tyra Banks

#because #fingers #guitar #hurt #i

I can whistle with my fingers, especially if I have a whistle. ↗

— Mitch Hedberg

#fingers #i #i can #whistle

Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers. ↗

— Hans Christian Andersen

#fairy #fairy tale #fingers #god #life

I'm sorry that I can't snap my fingers and undo 50 years of bad American foreign policy. ↗

— Harry Browne

#american foreign policy #bad #fingers #foreign #foreign policy

Try not thinking of peeling an orange. Try not imagining the juice running down your fingers, the soft inner part of the peel. The smell. Try and you can't. The brain doesn't process negatives. ↗

— Doug Coupland

#down #fingers #imagining #inner #juice

I apply paint directly from the tube and with my fingers. ↗

— John Dyer

#directly #fingers #i #paint #tube

A friend of mine once told me that I can't screw up when I play my own music. I also take voice lessons, play other peoples' songs out of music books, and occasionally figure out how to play other people's music from records. This keeps my ears, fingers, and mind working. ↗

— Lisa Loeb

#books #ears #figure #fingers #friend

I’ve fought in three campaigns,” he began. “In seven pitched battles. In countless raids and skirmishes and desperate defences, and bloody actions of every kind. I’ve fought in the driving snow, the blasting wind, the middle of the night. I’ve been fighting all my life, one enemy or another, one friend or another. I’ve known little else. I’ve seen men killed for a word, for a look, for nothing at all. A woman tried to stab me once for killing her husband, and I threw her down a well. And that’s far from the worst of it. Life used to be cheap as dirt to me. Cheaper. “I’ve fought ten single combats and I won them all, but I fought on the wrong side and for all the wrong reasons. I’ve been ruthless, and brutal, and a coward. I’ve stabbed men in the back, burned them, drowned them, crushed them with rocks, killed them asleep, unarmed, or running away. I’ve run away myself more than once. I’ve pissed myself with fear. I’ve begged for my life. I’ve been wounded, often, and badly, and screamed and cried like a baby whose mother took her tit away. I’ve no doubt the world would be a better place if I’d been killed years ago, but I haven’t been, and I don’t know why.” He looked down at his hands, pink and clean on the stone. “There are few men with more blood on their hands than me. None, that I know of. The Bloody-Nine they call me, my enemies, and there’s a lot of ’em. Always more enemies, and fewer friends. Blood gets you nothing but more blood. It follows me now, always, like my shadow, and like my shadow I can never be free of it. I should never be free of it. I’ve earned it. I’ve deserved it. I’ve sought it out. Such is my punishment. ↗

— Joe Abercrombie

#logen-ninefingers #life