I am somewhat allergic to explanations that divide men and women into frozen categories and attribute to each sex its characteristic virtues and shortcomings.
I am somewhat exhausted; I wonder how a battery feels when it pours electricity into a non-conductor?
I am somewhat grateful to the disintegration of my marriage for teaching me a lot about myself and about relationships, and though I wish it hadn't been such a taxing lesson, I wouldn't change a thing.
I am somewhat handicapped in doing things with my hands.
I am somewhat of a meliorist. That is to say, I act as an optimist because I find I cannot act at all, as a pessimist. One often feels helpless in the face of the confusion of these times, such a mass of apparently uncontrollable events and experiences to live through, attempt to understand, and if at all possible, give order to; but one must not withdraw from the task if he has some small things to offer -- he does so at the risk of diminishing his humanity.
I am somewhat on the shy side. I know people might find that hard to believe.
I am somewhat uncertain whether there is a definite factual question as to whether natural language handles truth-value gaps. Nor am I even quite sure that there is a definite question of fact as to whether natural language should be evaluated by the minimal fixed point or another, given the choice of a scheme for handling gaps. We are not at the moment searching for the correct scheme.
I am songwriter. I do compose the music of songs that I write in Bengali. But I've never thought of composing for a film. That's a different art altogether.
I am sore wounded but not slain
I will lay me down and bleed a while
And then rise up to fight again.
I am sorry I murmured. I know. I ought not to have threatened to beat you he returned. He pressed a kiss to my hair. I just cannot bear to be kept out of your life I said into the dark. He gave a sigh. Julia you daft woman. When you will you understand You are my life.
I am sorry I didn't tell you the truth before. I was hoping I wouldn't have to. You kept asking about Romeo and what he was really like. I was hoping that--he smiled wistfully--you would recognize me.
I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.
I am sorry about the person who is not truly excited about his job. He will not only never truly be happy there, but he won't achieve anything great.
I am sorry for causing anyone to lose faith in sport.
I am sorry for people who can't write letters. But I suspect also that you and I ... love to write them because it's kind of like working without really doing it.
I am sorry for those that disagree with me because I know that they are wrong.
I am sorry if I am going to disappoint women who feel that becoming a mother completes you. I don't feel I am any less of a woman for not having a child.
I am sorry that Mr. Cheney, and every other supporter of enhanced interrogation techniques, has to defend the practices as if they were torture. They are not.
I am sorry that our friendship, or whatever name one may give to the obsessive relationship which has bound us together for so many years, should end in this way. This is not the place to utter its elegy.