quote by Lorenz Hart

How we love sequestering, where no pests are pestering.

— Lorenz Hart

Most Powerful Pestered quotations

The right time to show your good character is when you are pestered by someone weaker than you.

When I was about six, I saw my elder siblings play chess and pestered my mother into teaching me. Very soon, I was beating everyone at home, and they thought it would be good to join a club. So my sister would take me to the Tal chess club on Thursdays and weekends.

I say if you love something, set it in a small cage and pester and smother it with love until it either loves you back or dies.

Somehow, by just continually pestering the general public by appearing on television, they accepted me and wanted more.

The way forward is to stop pestering yourself for answers and let it, the creative part of your mind, come up with the solution when the time is right.

Damn the Solar System. Bad light; planets too distant; pestered with comets; feeble contrivance; could make a better myself.

I hope somebody hits .400 soon. Then people can start pestering that guy with questions about the last guy to hit .400.

I had pestered [Phil Wood] for a long time.

He finally agreed to do it. And I was excited and nervous and he couldn't have been nicer or more supportive from the minute I got to his house.

I also met Charles McPherson around that time, end of high school.

I was 17 and I had followed Phil around for a year and pestered him enough to finally give me saxophone lessons. So all of a sudden I've got Phil Woods and Charles McPherson around me.

I try to pester Christian Dunn from time to time.

As soon as my schedule allows, I plan to make a real pest of myself and get some hot, slippery Chaos action.

Even just pestering people with questions, and being nosey and pushy and getting her way, are things I think many young women grow up struggling with, to assert themselves.

...to emphasize the afterlife is to deny life. To concentrate on Heaven is to create hell. In their desperate longing to transcend the disorderliness, friction, and unpredictability that pesters life; in their desire for a fresh start in a tidy habitat, germ-free and secured by angels, religious multitudes are gambling the only life they may ever have on a dark horse in a race that has no finish line.

For the last six weeks I have found myself pestered by some characters in search of an author.

With mimicry, with praises, with echoes, or with answers, the poets have all but outsung the bell. The inarticulate bell has found too much interpretation, too many rhymes professing to close with her inaccessible utterance, and to agree with her remote tongue. The bell, like the bird, is a musician pestered with literature.

I am positive I have a soul; nor can all the books with which materialists have pestered the world ever convince me to the contrary.

Oh, life would be all right if we didn't have to put up with these damned creditors who keep pestering us with the demands of their ideals.

I pestered the hell out of everybody I ran into until I could play the guitar well enough to write and sing with it.

There was also a hunger strike in front of the National Press Club, which seemed an odd place to have a hunger strike (a cocktail fast, maybe). Although the Bangladeshis were savvy enough to know to know that if you're going to pester journalists, don't go to where they work: You'll never find them there.

What's agitating about solitude is the inner voice telling you that you should be mated to somebody, that solitude is a mistake. The inner voice doesn't care about who you find. It just keeps pestering you, tormenting you.

If you wants to get elected president, you'se got to think up some memoraboble homily so's school kids can be pestered into memorizin' it, even if they don't know what it means.

The Thanksgiving tradition is, we gorge.

Hey, what about at Thanksgiving we simply consume a considerable measure? However we do that consistently! Goodness. Imagine a scenario where we consume a ton with individuals who pester the heck out of us.

Everything he'd done with regard to her in the last three years had been calculated to foreclose the intensely personal sort of talks they'd had when he was younger: to get her to shut up, to train her to contain herself, to make her stop pestering him with her overfull heart and her uncensored self. And now that the training was complete and she was obediently trivial with him, he felt bereft of her and wanted to undo it.

It is better just to get on with the business of living and minding your own business and maybe, if God likes the way you do things, he may just let you flower for a day or a night. But don't go pestering and begging and telling him all your stupid little sins, that way you will spoil his day.