Lotto Ticket Quotes

The truth is there’s not enough miracles to go around, kid. And there’s too many people petitioning God for the winning lotto ticket. And for every answered prayer, there’s a cricket with arthritis. And the only reason we can’t find answers is because the search party didn’t invite us.

The closest I’d ever got to seeing a naked woman before was black and white cleavage, and then Rosie tossed her clothes in a corner just like they were getting in the way and spun around in the dim light of Number 16, palms up, luminous, laughing, almost close enough to touch. The thought still knocks the wind out of me. I was too young even to know what I wanted to do about her, I just knew nothing in the World, not the Mona Lisa walking through the Grand Canyon with the Holy Grail in one hand and a winning lotto ticket in the other, was ever going to be that beautiful.

I just knew nothing in the world, not the Mona Lisa walking through the Grand Canyon with the Holy Grail in one hand and a winning Lotto ticket in the other, was ever going to be that beautiful. Kevin

some rich old white dude, chillin’ on the East Side, doing his thing with some young supermodel with fake everything on a mattress made of real money. Lotto-ticket money.

some rich old white dude, chillin’ on the East Side, doing his thing with some young supermodel with fake everything on a mattress made of real money. Lotto-ticket money. Cheap-forty-ounce money. Bootleg-DVD money. My money.

The essence of Kasulo is a devils' gamble: tunnel diggers risk their lives for the prospects of riches. Mind you, the "richest" income I documented in Kasulo was an average take home-pay of $7 per day. There are spikes to $12 or even $15 when a particularly rich vein of heterogenite is found. That is the lotto ticket everyone is after. The most fortunate tunnel diggers in Kasulo earn around $3,000 per year. By way of comparison, the CEOs of the technology and car companies that buy the cobalt mined from Kasulo earn $3,000 in an hour, and they do so without having to put their lives at risk each day that they go to work.

Take a simple example: lottery tickets. Americans spend more on them than movies, video games, music, sporting events, and books combined. And who buys them? Mostly poor people. The lowest-income households in the U.S. on average spend $412 a year on lotto tickets, four times the amount of those in the highest income groups. Forty percent of Americans cannot come up with $400 in an emergency. Which is to say: Those buying $400 in lottery tickets are by and large the same people who say they couldn’t come up with $400 in an emergency. They are blowing their safety nets on something with a one-in-millions chance of hitting it big. That seems crazy to me. It probably seems crazy to you, too. But I’m not in the lowest income group. You’re likely not, either. So it’s hard for many of us to intuitively grasp the subconscious reasoning of low-income lottery ticket buyers. But strain a little, and you can imagine it going something like this:

The lowest-income households in the U.S. on average spend $412 a year on lotto tickets, four times the amount of those in the highest income groups.

lust of the eyes focuses squarely upon our desire to have beautiful things, which we believe we must have for contentment. By definition, both the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes in the world’s context deal with external solicitations to sin. A billboard displaying a scantily dressed body attempting to sell anything from breakfast cereal to fast cars might represent the lust of the flesh. The same billboard could represent the lust of the eyes with a winning lotto ticket, a dream house, or a rose. The message is clear. You need this. You deserve this. You cannot be content living without this.

Money Is an Energy" Everybody is already someone else An existential tag line Money is current I would like to not live paycheck to paycheck You could make a pun on currency but not quite Money is an energy nonetheless Dark space Dark water A long silent drive Dark matter(s) Driving is my personality The methods of one wor(l)d revealing the hidden harmonies of another Prayer card Lotto ticket You occupy my pocket My payment has not arrived

Thus, as Taketoshi Ono’s experiments with rats suggested, anticipation appears to be a two-stage process. The first stage looks backward with memory, the second looks forward with hope. That would explain why Laurie Zink, who never bought a lottery ticket before she won on a reality show, now loves playing lotto—and why Mark Twain, despite all his wealth, kept trying to strike it rich anyway.

Take a simple example: lottery tickets. Americans spend more on them than movies, video games, music, sporting events, and books combined. And who buys them? Mostly poor people. The lowest-income households in the U.S. on average spend $412 a year on lotto tickets, four times the amount of those in the highest income groups. Forty percent of Americans cannot come up with $400 in an emergency. Which is to say: Those buying $400 in lottery tickets are by and large the same people who say they couldn’t come up with $400 in an emergency. They are blowing their safety nets on something with a one-in-millions chance of hitting it big.

A surprise is a birthday party, a mistake is a DUI. A surprise is a winning lotto ticket, a mistake is getting caught smuggling drugs at the airport. They’re two very different things, and yet somehow, me being born can be categorized as both. It’s interesting to be able to assign different words to the same thing and have them both be true.

The lowest-income households in the U.S. on average spend $412 a year on lotto tickets, four times the amount of those in the highest income groups. Forty percent of Americans cannot come up with $400 in an emergency.

I won $2 playing the lotto today. And I might win $2 again tomorrow. But if I buy thousands of $1 lottery tickets, each with an expected payout of $.56, then it becomes a near mathematical certainty that I will lose money.