Larry Bird Quotes

Larry Bird looks like a bird, and Johnny Vagina looks like—hey, what is that in the sky?


A winner is someone who recognizes his God-given talents, works his tail off to develop them into skills, and uses these skills to accomplish his goals.

At the age of six, the criteria for handsome was simply: "Is he not related to me?" and "Have I seen him on television?" That was it. By this standard, Larry Bird, Dick Clark, and Andy Rooney. All handsome guys.

It's like watching a bird that's been caged its whole existence and is suddenly released, overwhelmed with freedom and life, filling its lungs with what it never dared breathe and filling its eyes with what it never dared see.

We were two distinct entities, a planet and its moon, drawn together by a gravitational force out of our control, spinning around each other in perfect synchronicity.

He dances until dawn and walks away from the ghosts. Into the light.

This is a silly place. Half the world has no clean water. The other half has so much that they pooh in it.

Many white men could not trust things unless they could be explained; and yet the most beautiful things, such as the trackless flight of birds, could never be explained.

when you think you have done enough, do a little more, because someone out there is working harder than you.

I've got a theory that if you give 100 percent all of the time, somehow things will work out in the end.

This is the Los Angeles Lakers of sunsets. Purple and yellow, it reminds me of Larry Bird.

Larry Bird was a great basketball player, but he would have been even better if he were more specific. I'd wear a Larry Duck jersey.

A winner is someone who recognizes his God given talents, works his tail off to develop them into skills, and uses these skills to accomplish his goals. Larry Bird ***

To me, a winner is someone who recognizes their God-given talents, works his tail off to develop them into skills, and uses those skills to accomplish his goals. Even when I lost, I learned what my weaknesses were and I went out the next day to turn those weaknesses into strengths.

Michael Jordan wasn’t the first basketball hero by any means, but our desire to have a hero, as sparked by earlier stars like Wilt Chamberlain and Larry Bird, made it easier for Michael to walk in and fill a role that had to be filled by someone.

From what I've seen of (Larry) Bird, he's not just one bird. He's a whole flock!

In the late seventies and early eighties, the home NBA team was required to provide the road team with a case of cold beer in the locker room after each game.

Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers 'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn. I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus. O Thought, now you'll have to think the same thing forever!

Surely you're joking Theodore?' he protested. 'You mean to say that each snail is both a male and a female?' 'Yes indeed,' said Theodore, adding with masterly understatement, 'it's very curious.' 'Good God,' cried Larry. 'I think it's unfair. All those damned slimy things wandering about seducing each other like mad all over the bushes, and having the pleasures of both sensations. Why couldn't such a gift be given to the human race? That's what I want to know.

Larry Wall, who created the programming language Perl, once said, “When they first built the University of California at Irvine they just put the buildings in. They did not put any sidewalks; they just planted grass. The next year, they came back and put the sidewalks where the trails were in the grass. Perl is just that kind of language. It is not designed from first principles. Perl is those sidewalks in the grass.” Hashtags, @replies, and retweets emerged in just that way.

My love and I are inventing a country, which we can already see taking shape, as if wheels were passing through yellow mud. But there is a problem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw and begin flooding. If we put the river on the border, there will be trouble. If we forget about the river, there will be now way out. There is already a sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke. Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more trees fill with their eyes, and what they see we can never erase.

Soccer's appeal lay in its opposition to the other popular sports. For children of the sixties, there was something abhorrent about enrolling kids in American football, a game where violence wasn't just incidental but inherent. They didn't want to teach the acceptability of violence, let alone subject their precious children to the risk of physical maiming. Baseball, where each batter must stand center stage four or five times a game, entailed too many stressful, potentially ego-deflating encounters. Basketball, before Larry Bird's prime, still had the taint of the ghetto. But soccer represented something very different. It was a tabula rasa, a sport onto which a generation of parents could project their values. Quickly, soccer came to represent the fundamental tenets of yuppie parenting, the spirit of Sesame Street and Dr. Benjamin Spock.

The journeys that people took had always interested him; his own life was a constant journeying, though not quite so constant as it had been before he had his wives and children. Usually he only agreed to scout for the Texans if they were going in a direction he wanted to go himself, in order to see a particular hill or stream, to visit a relative or friend, or just to search for a bird or animal he wanted to observe. Also, he often went back to places he had been at earlier times in his life, just to see if the places would seem the same. In most cases, because he himself had changed, the places did not seem exactly as he remembered them, but there were exceptions. The simplest places, where there was only rock and sky, or water and rock, changed the least. When he felt disturbances in his life, as all men would, Famous Shoes tried to go back to one of the simple places, the places of rock and sky, to steady himself and grow calm again.

When Famous Shoes finished his song he noticed that the young white man was asleep. During the day he had not trusted enough, and had worn himself out with pointless scurryings. Perhaps even then the song he had just sung was working in the young man’s dreams; perhaps as he grew older he would learn to trust mysteries and not fear them. Many white men could not trust things unless they could be explained; and yet the most beautiful things, such as the trackless flight of birds, could never be explained.

When it came to listening to the folks who used Twitter, we put our money where our mouths were. Watching for patterns of use across the system, we built features based on those patterns. Larry Wall, who created the programming language Perl, once said, “When they first built the University of California at Irvine they just put the buildings in. They did not put any sidewalks; they just planted grass. The next year, they came back and put the sidewalks where the trails were in the grass. Perl is just that kind of language. It is not designed from first principles. Perl is those sidewalks in the grass.” Hashtags, @replies, and retweets emerged in just that way.

These include: 1.Do the Right Thing—the principle of integrity. We see in George Marshall the endless determination to tell the truth and never to curry favor by thought, word, or deed. Every one of General Marshall’s actions was grounded in the highest sense of integrity, honesty, and fair play. 2.Master the Situation—the principle of action. Here we see the classic “know your stuff and take appropriate action” principle of leadership coupled with a determination to drive events and not be driven by them. Marshall knew that given the enormous challenges of World War II followed by the turbulent postwar era, action would be the heart of his remit. And he was right. 3.Serve the Greater Good—the principle of selflessness. In George Marshall we see a leader who always asked himself, “What is the morally correct course of action that does the greatest good for the greatest number?” as opposed to the careerist leader who asks “What’s in it for me?” and shades recommendations in a way that creates self-benefit. 4.Speak Your Mind—the principle of candor. Always happiest when speaking simple truth to power, General and Secretary Marshall never sugarcoated the message to the global leaders he served so well. 5.Lay the Groundwork—the principle of preparation. As is often said at the nation’s service academies, know the six Ps: Prior Preparation Prevents Particularly Poor Performance. 6.Share Knowledge—the principle of learning and teaching. Like Larry Bird on a basketball court, George Marshall made everyone on his team look better by collaborating and sharing information. 7.Choose and Reward the Right People—the principle of fairness. Unbiased, color- and religion-blind, George Marshall simply picked the very best people. 8.Focus on the Big Picture—the principle of vision. Marshall always kept himself at the strategic level, content to delegate to subordinates when necessary. 9.Support the Troops—the principle of caring. Deeply involved in ensuring that the men and women under his command prospered, General and Secretary Marshall taught that if we are loyal down the chain of command, that loyalty will be repaid not only in kind but in operational outcomes as well.

He is Magic Johnson with a jump shot, all right. Larry Bird’s jump shot. Lloyd Daniels can do everything with a basketball except one. . . . Autograph it.

Hey, Larry Fairy,” Brad Chomner said at school, “think fast.” Which was one of those phrases that never made sense to Laurence: People who told you to “think fast” were always those who thought much more slowly than you did. And they only said it when they were about to do something to contribute to the collective mental inertia. And yet Laurence had never come up with the perfect comeback to “Think fast,” and he wouldn’t have time to say whatever it was, since something unpleasant usually hit him a second later. Laurence had to go clean himself up.

kids shouted, “Larry, Larry, Quite Contrary!” and held him underwater, and threw him out of the airplane early, and forced him to do improv while holding him upside down by his ankles. Laurence wondered if there was some other kid, named Larry, who would have a “let’s go” attitude about being dropped on a mountainside somewhere. Larry might be the alternate-universe version of Laurence, and maybe all Laurence needed to do was harness all the

localized space-time fissure in his bathtub and go kidnap Larry from the other universe. So Larry could go out and get tormented instead, while Laurence stayed home. The hard part would be figuring out a way to poke a hole in the universe before the judo tournament in two weeks’ time. “Hey, Larry Fairy,” Brad Chomner said at school, “think fast.” Which was one of those phrases that never made sense to Laurence: People who told you to “think fast” were always those who thought much more slowly than you did. And they only said it when they were about to do something to contribute to the collective mental inertia. And yet Laurence had never come up with the perfect comeback to “Think fast,” and he wouldn’t have time to say whatever it was, since something unpleasant usually hit him a second later. Laurence had to go clean himself up. One day, Laurence found some schematics on the internet, which he printed out and reread a hundred times before he started figuring out

Larry's dog's named Earl P. Jessup Bowers, if you can get ready for that. And I should mention straightaway that I do not like dogs one bit, which is why I was glad when Larry said somebody had to go. Cats are bad enough. Horses are a total drag. By the age of nine I was fed up with all that noble horse this and noble horse that. They got good PR, horses. But I really can't use em. Was a fire once when I was little and some dumb horse almost burnt my daddy up messin around, twisting, snorting, broncing, rearing up, doing everything but comin on out the barn like even the chickens had sense enough to do. I told my daddy to let that horse's ass burn. Horses be as dumb as cows. Cows just don't have good press agents is all. I used to like cows when I was real little and needed to hug me something bigger than a goldfish. But don't let it rain, the dumbbells'll fall right in a ditch and you break a plow and shout yourself hoarse trying to get them fools to come up out the ditch. Chipmunks I don't mind when I'm at the breakfast counter with my tea and they're on their side of the glass doing Disney things in the yard. Blue jays are law-and-order birds, thoroughly despicable. And there's one prize fool in my Aunt Merriam's yard I will one day surely kill. He tries to "whip whip whippoorwill" like the Indians do in the Fort This or That movies when they're signaling to each other closing in on George Montgomery but don't never get around to wiping that sucker out. But dogs are one of my favorite hatreds. All the time woofing, bolting down their food, slopping water on the newly waxed linoleum, messin with you when you trying to read, chewin on the slippers.

In 1986, shortly after Chris’s fourteenth birthday, came a moment that would permanently alter drug enforcement polices moving forward. On June 19, just two days after being selected second overall by the defending champion Boston Celtics, Len Bias died from an overdose, and the world stopped. Bias was a basketball superhero. He had dominated college basketball at the University of Maryland with a combination of force, beauty, grace, and destruction that made him a true one-of-one. In joining the Celtics, he was pinned to become Michael Jordan’s greatest rival (the two had phenomenal duels in college) and prolong the dynasty in Boston, where Larry Bird had led the team to three titles in the last six years. Rumors spread in the press that Bias died after smoking crack. Cocaine, usually associated with lavish white communities and those living in the lap of luxury, was seen as an addiction. But crack was a crime. The drug, far cheaper than powder cocaine, was largely associated with Black communities and was being held significantly responsible for the erosion of society’s moral fabric.

talking about, just look at the Celtics.

«Secondo me, bisogna trovargli un nuovo istitutore», disse Larry. «Ti allontani da casa cinque minuti, e quando torni, lo trovi che sta sbudellando Moby Dick nel portico.»

«Secondo me», stava dicendo Larry, «è un poltergeist maledettamente grosso.» «Non puo essere un poltergeist, caro», disse mamma. «I poltergeist sono quelli che fanno volare le cose.» «Be', qualsiasi cosa sia, se ne sta lassù a trascinare le sue catene facendo un fracasso dell'accidente», disse Larry, «e io esigo che venga esorcizzata. Tu e Margo siete le esperte del paranormale. Dovete pensarci voi, andate lassù e procedete.»

son. Kareem blew us off, but you were very nice.” The son was a grown man, a successful attorney in Los Angeles. His father was the CEO of the company Magic was soliciting. “My son is 29 years old now,” the man said, “and he still has that picture on his wall.” As Magic walked out of the meeting with a new multimillion-dollar client in his portfolio, he thought to himself, “See, Kareem? It could have been you.

First master the fundamentals.” —LARRY BIRD

Their brothers are their heroes, and if anything happens to William Saunders or Robert Young, Kenneth and Larry might blame everyone around them, because we’re the citizens those men will have died for, and maybe they won’t believe we were worth it. Are we? Have we ever been worth it, any of the times before?

It’s not how high you jump, how fast you run. All you guys here can run faster, jump higher. But I’ll tell you, I can get my friend Larry Bird and the two of us will play any two of you and when it’s all said and done, we will get the last laugh.

A winner is someone who recognizes his God given talents, works his tail off to develop them into skills, and uses these skills to accomplish his goals. Larry Bird

Larry Wells, at Brigham Young University, hit upon the idea of delivering the birds by air. In what has to be one of the most spectacularly woozy malfunctions ever to happen in the skies above the American Southwest, he found to his horror that when you toss Rhode Island Reds out of a small plane, well, let’s just say the windblast hammers them in the most awful way, leaving lifeless chicken bodies scattered about the sagebrush.

More recently, Magic Johnson and Larry Bird faced each other on the basketball court as arch-competitors—first in high school, continuing through college, and culminating in the NBA, with Johnson playing for the LA Lakers and Bird playing for the Boston Celtics. The rivalry of these two champions became legendary—as did their dislike for one another, which seemed to grow in intensity with every passing year. Somewhere along the way Converse paid each of them to shoot a shoe commercial; they faced each other on the court, Bird wearing white shoes, Johnson wearing black. Bird insisted that they film the commercial at his farm in Indiana. The shoot began icily, with both superstars circling each other, but when they broke for lunch and started to go their separate ways, Bird’s mother announced that she had made lunch and invited everyone to the table. In Larry Bird’s words, “It was at the table that I discovered Earvin Johnson. I never liked Magic Johnson very much. But Earvin I like, a lot. And Earvin didn’t come out until I met him at Mom’s table.

When it was [Larry] Bird's turn [to sign souvenir Team USA basketballs], he said to [Brian] McIntyre ' What's the quickest it's taken anyone to do this?' McIntyre said between fifteen and twenty minutes. Bird said, 'Time me,' finished in about six minutes, tossed the pen to McIntyre and said, 'Won another one, didn't I?

The undefeated team that got the farthest since Indiana? Indiana State, 33–0 with Larry Bird in 1979, beaten by Magic Johnson and Michigan State in a classic final game.

The child startles awake with a cry as though astonished at waking and she finds herself rising upward through sleep until her sleep lies broken in the dark room. She slides a foot towards Larry but his side of the bed is cold. She lifts the child from the cot and puts him to her breast, the small mouth gasping and devouring, the little hand clawing at her flesh. She gives him her finger and he grips it with such tiny might she knows his innate terror, the child clinging as though for dear life, as though there is nothing else to bind him to life but his mother. The dawn birds are sounding

game

With Chelsea’s off-limits, Bird found plenty of alternative watering holes. Celtics players taped a cornball commercial with the Scotch & Sirloin restaurant near the Garden and cut a deal with the owner to make the place a personal hangout for team members and families. Bird got his older brother Michael a job at Dockside, a Faneuil Hall Marketplace bar owned by the owners of Chelsea’s. Dockside had a downstairs bar that was closed weeknights—unless Larry Bird needed a place to hang out. Bird occasionally visited his brother, hiding out in the downstairs bar, where he could watch sports, smoke cigarettes, drink Bud Lights, and not be bothered.

Though a Kickapoo, the man had respect for the old ways. He behaved like the old ones behaved; the old ones, too, would go to any lengths to learn some useful fact about the animals or the birds. They would figure that someone might need to know those facts; they themselves might not need to, but their children might, or their grandchildren might.

Somebody asked me once how I felt about all that,” Bird said. “I told them, ‘Hell, I’m jealous of them too. I’m jealous because I never got to play with a Larry Bird.

She had yet to experience the effects of anybody’s sex appeal, though she greatly admired Larry Bird—a fact that could not possibly have had anything to do with his looks.

After work the following Monday Larry sat on his porch not reading but waiting in his usual company of bats and birds and insects, the tinkling of his mother's chime each time the earth breathed its wind. He was disappointed but not surprised when the night stole the far trees and the fence across the road and then the road itself and finally the sky, Larry's truck gone too in the dark and stars beginning to wink in the sky like nail holes in the roof of a barn.

The blue Twitter bird is named Larry.

dead by all the relatives. You are supposed to be head of the family – stop him writing it.’ ‘You do exaggerate, Larry dear,’ said Mother. ‘Anyway,

He behaved like the old ones behaved; the old ones, too, would go to any lengths to learn some useful fact about the animals or the birds. They would figure that someone might need to know those facts; they themselves might not need to, but their children might, or their grandchildren might.

Looking in the dead bird’s eye, I realized that these strange, unthought-of connections—sex and death, lust and violence, desire and degradation

That’s the trouble round here,’ snapped Larry. ‘Nobody counts! And before you know where you are you’re knee deep in animals. It’s like the bloody creation all over again, only worse. One owl turns into a battalion before you know where you are; sex-mad pigeons defying Marie Stopes in every room of the house; the place is so full of birds it’s like a bloody poulterer’s shop, to say nothing of snakes and toads and enough small fry to keep Macbeth’s witches in provender for years. And on top of all that you go and get twelve more dogs. It’s a perfect example of the streak of lunacy that runs in this family.’ ‘Nonsense, Larry, you do exaggerate,’ said Mother. ‘Such a lot of fuss over a few puppies.’ ‘You call eleven puppies a few? The place will look like the Greek branch of Crufts’ Dog Show and they’ll probably all turn out to be bitches and come into season simultaneously. Life will deteriorate into one long canine sexual orgy.

Bresse chicken, aka “the Queen of Poultry, the Poultry of Kings.” The first livestock of any kind to be granted AOC protection (1957), production of the famed Poulet de Bresse is so small and demand so high that very little leaves France. In the domestic market, it commands at least five times the price of other chickens. Under French law, each free-ranging bird must have more than one hundred square feet to itself, essentially a studio apartment in New York, along with lots of other rules. The pampered poultry has been praised by everyone from star chef Heston Blumenthal