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I am a deep man—I reread James Joyce's Ulysses every three years for fun. I am at the core a good person, and I try to avoid hurting others.But I can't seem to evolve to the next state of being because I spend far too much time thinking about women. When I first met Hugh Hefner, he was seventy-three.When I look back on my teenage years, I have one major regret, and it has nothing to do with not studying hard enough, not being nice to my mother, or crashing my father's car into a public bus.It is simply that I didn't fool around with enough girls.
"The Randall Knife": Words and Music by Guy Clark © 1983 EMI APRIL MUSIC INC. All Rights Controlled and Administered by EMI APRIL MUSIC INC. FIRST EDITION Art direction and design by Michelle Ishay / Richard Ljoenes Cover design by Richard Ljoenes Interior design by Kris Tobiassen / Richard Ljoenes Interior illustrations by Bernard Chang Printed on acid-free paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for. "I COULD NOT BECOME ANYTHING: N E I T H E R BAD NOR G O O D , N E I T H E R A SCOUNDREL NOR AN HONEST MAN, N E I T H E R A HERO NOR AN INSECT. "I want to learn martial arts," he said docilely, "so when I want to kill someone, I can do something about it." I stepped on the accelerator. He walked briskly, like a man who knew where he was going, although Project Hollywood was three miles away. This is because my personality has completely changed.
Author Rhonda Byrne, like each of us, has been on her own journey of discovery.
In The Secret, she explains with simplicity the law that is governing all lives, and offers the knowledge of how to create – intentionally and effortlessly – a joyful life.
For a week, he'd been vacillating between periods of extreme anger and violence, and jags of fitful, cathartic sobbing. There were five of us living in the house: Herbal, Mystery, Papa, Playboy, and me. Cigarette butts and used condoms floated grimly in the Jacuzzi. I ran north to Fountain Avenue, spotted him around the corner, and dragged him back again.
Even our mansion, like the others we had spawned everywhere from San Francisco to Sydney, had a nickname. The white carpet had gone gray from the constant traffic of young, perfumed humanity herded in off Sunset Boulevard every night.
A number of exceptional men and women discovered The Secret, and went on to become known as the greatest people who ever lived.