Smiley Ball Quotes

It was one of life's treats, wasn't it, paying a visit to your past, swinging like a ball on a string away from the person you loved, always knowing that the string must pull you back, and you would be oh so glad to get there.

It was one of life’s treats, wasn’t it, paying a visit to your past, swinging like a ball on a string away from the person you loved, always knowing that the string must pull you back, and you would be oh so glad to get there.

Good shot.” “Not really. I was aiming for his balls.

I was born in the Year of the Smiley Face: 1963. That’s when a graphic designer from Worcester, Massachusetts, named Harvey Ball invented the now-ubiquitous grinning yellow graphic. Originally, Ball’s creation was designed to cheer up people who worked at, of all places, an insurance company, but it has since become synonymous with the frothy, quintessentially American brand of happiness.

Along the way, though, I was always careful not to get greedy or to go for the quick buck--despite the temptations in the early days. Financially, it was hard saying no to big appearance fees from TV shows like I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here or Survivor--but I always had the long goal in mind and tried to keep the main thing the main thing. And not get distracted by fluff. Instead, know your strengths. I also tended instinctively to shy away from both TV and the whole concept of fame--partly, I am sure, because I didn’t have the self-belief to feel I deserved either fame or money. (Time and experience have since taught me that fame and money very rarely go to the worthy, by the way--hence we shouldn’t ever be too impressed by either of those imposters. Value folk for who they are, how they live, and what they give--that’s a much better benchmark.) So I resisted TV quite heavily--even ironically spurning the offers of the original Man vs. Wild producer, Rob MacIver, some three times, before finally agreeing to do a pilot show. But what a dope I was. Bear, didn’t you listen to your grandma when she wrote: “When the ball rolls your way grab it. We so rarely get a second chance. (Although miraculously, this does sometimes happen, too.)”? But I just didn’t want to be pushed into TV, I wanted to keep focused on my strengths, and trust those skills. My father always used to say that if you focus on doing your job well, then money will often follow. But chase the money and it has a habit of slipping through your fingers. I always liked that. But learning that I could do both things--TV, as well as my core skills--was a big lesson. Maybe it would be possible to do programs without having to be a smiley media person. I wondered. Grandma? “Indeed--when the ball rolls your way--grab it.

In the end, Turk sent Papadopoulos emails saying that meeting him had been the “highlight of my trip” and gushing, “I am excited about what the future holds for us :)”—the smiley-face symbol accentuating the point.

The glow of the oil lamp had grown into a smoky light-ball, and Connie in her rocking-chair sat at the edge of it, Mother Russia herself, as they had called her in the Circus, her wasting face hallowed with reminiscence as she unfolded the story of just one of her unnumbered family of erring children. Whatever suspicions she was harbouring about Smiley’s motive in coming here, she had suspended them: this was what she had lived for; this was her song, even if it was her last; these monumental acts of recollection were her genius. In the old days, Smiley remembered, she would have teased him, flirted with her voice, taken huge arcs through seemingly extraneous chunks of Moscow Centre history, all to lure him nearer. But tonight her narrative had acquired an awesome sobriety, as if she knew she had very little time.

Embassy grounds,” Toby said as the headlights flashed over steep woods falling away to the right. “That’s where Grigorieva plays her volley-ball, gives political instruction to the kids. George, believe me, that’s a very distorting woman. Embassy kindergarten, the indoctrination classes, the Ping-Pong club, women’s badminton—that woman runs the whole show. Don’t take my word for it, hear my boys talk about her.” As they turned out of the cul-de-sac, Smiley lifted his glance towards the upper window of the corner house and saw a light go out, and then come on again. “And that’s Pauli Skordeno saying ‘Welcome to Berne,’” said Toby. “We managed to rent the top floor last week. Pauli’s a Reuters stringer. We even faked a press pass for him. Cable cards, everything.

Nobody’s brought off the Eastern novel recently, my view. Greene managed it, if you can take Greene, which I can’t—too much popery. Malraux, if you like philosophy, which I don’t. Maugham you can have, and before that it’s back to Conrad. Cheers. Mind my saying something ?” Jerry filled Ming’s glass. “Go easy on the Hemingway stuff. All that grace under pressure, love with your balls shot off. They don’t like it, my view. It’s been said.