Evigan Greg Quotes & Sayings

Like all mothers, mother nature is delighted to keep in touch with you when you're appearing in hit tv shows like BJ and the bear and My Two Dads but when you suddenly find yourself hosting When Insects Attack, oh she becomes strangely distant. — Greg Evigan

I'm actually in my 22-year-old son Jason's band, After Midnight Project. The music is like Coldplay-ish rock. — Greg Evigan

So much of writing is done alone in a room in sweatpants, with only the Internet for company. — Lauren Weisberger

I'm a tek addict myself. No matter where you are, people are looking for something to tear them away from reality, challenge their state of mind. — Greg Evigan

How about this, I would counter: try not commenting on your own looks - on the size of your thighs or the tightness of your jeans. At least not in front of your daughter. Girls receive enough messages every day reducing them to their appearance without women they love delivering them, too. — Peggy Orenstein

I've been playing the bad guy in the last seven or eight projects I've done. I like it. It's a lot more interesting! Being the good guy gets a little stale after a while, you know? — Greg Evigan

I had been for some hours extremely pressed by the necessities of nature; which was no wonder, it being almost two days since I had last disburdened myself. I was under great difficulties between urgency and shame. The best expedient I could think of, was to creep into my house, which I accordingly did; and shutting the gate after me, I went as far as the length of my chain would suffer, and discharged my body of that uneasy load. — Jonathan Swift

The time we spend talking about Jiu Jitsu is time not spent practicing Jiu Jitsu. This is a necessary aspect of study, but it is one we mustn't lose ourselves in; we learn best by doing. — Chris Matakas

Like all mothers, mother nature will tuck you safely into bed at night only to come into your room two hours later in a scary mask and threaten you with a nail — Greg Evigan

Trying to remember old dreams. A voice. Who came in.
And meanwhile the rain, all day, all evening,
quiet steady sound. Before it grew too dark
watched the blue iris leaning under the rain,
the flame of the poppies guttered and went out.
A voice. Almost recalled. There have been times
the gods entered. Entered a room, a cave?
A long enclosure where I was, the fourth wall of it
too distant or too dark to see. The birds are silent,
no moths at the lit windows. Only a swaying rosebush
pierces the table's reflection, raindrops gazing from it.
There have been hands laid on my shoulders.
What has been said to me,
how has my life replied?
The rain, the rain ... — Denise Levertov

What do you mean, 'what happened to my Redcoat boy'?" Fiona asked, swirling her spoon around her dish.
"I mean, where did he go?"
"He went..." Fiona gazed off into the distance and shook her head slightly." He went the way of all things."
"You mean he died?"
Her focus snapped back to me. "No."
"Well, you made it sound like he died."
"I just meant that he went wherever it is that boys go when they go." She waved a hand. "Into the ether. Into the great beyond."
"It's still sounding like he died. Did you at least get his number? — Leila Sales

You can't know about marriage until you try it. — Greg Evigan

Not loving is a letting go.
Listen,
The terrain around here
Is
Far too
Dangerous
For
That. — Hafez

I am back in Los Angeles after a very successful run in Chicago as Billy Flynn. — Greg Evigan

Sci-fi fans are the most loyal fans on the planet - there's no doubt about it. I've done a few of those conventions, and these people will know the lines! — Greg Evigan

If you want to earn the gratitude of your own age you must keep in step with it. But if you do that you will produce nothing great. If you have something great in view you must address yourself to posterity: only then, to be sure, you will probably remain unknown to your contemporaries; you will be like a man compelled to spend his life on a desert island and there toiling to erect a memorial so that future seafarers shall know he once existed. — Arthur Schopenhauer