Will Shields
Will Shields
Will Herthie Shieldsis a former college and professional American football player who was an offensive guard in the National Football Leaguefor fourteen seasons. He played college football for the University of Nebraska, earning consensus All-American honors and winning the Outland Trophy. He played his entire professional career for the NFL's Kansas City Chiefs, and never missed a game in fourteen seasons...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAthlete
Date of Birth15 September 1971
CountryUnited States of America
In a long and healthy life, which is what most of us have, there is plenty of time.
A childhood is what anyone wants to remember of it. It leaves behind no fossils, except perhaps in fiction.
He dares not concern himself with the future for fear of disturbing the present.
These are frightening times...when she feels herself annointed by loneliness.
The silence is perfect, and yet a torment ...
Here's to another year and let's hope it's above ground.
So this is where the years of maturity deliver us - to this needy, selfish, unwieldy wish to be somebody else's first and primal other.
Our friendship is made up of these brief frenzied exchanges, but the quality of our conversation, for all its feverish outpouring, is genuine.
Happiness is the lucky pane of glass you carry in your head. It takes all your cunning just to hang on to it, and once it's smashed you have to move into a different sort of life.
Eventually, everything gets stuck between a pair of parentheses or buried in the bottom of a trunk.
It's the arrangement of events which makes the stories. It's throwing away, compressing, underlining. Hindsight can give structure to anything, but you have to be able to see it. Breathing, waking and sleeping: our lives are steamed and shaped into stories. Knowing that is what keeps me from going insane, and though I don't like to admit it, sometimes it's the only thing.
Anyone's childhood can be an act of disablement if rehearsed and replayed and squinted at in a certain light. . .
The larger loneliness of our lives evolves from our unwillingness to spend ourselves, stir ourselves. We are always damping down our inner weather, permitting ourselves the comforts of postponement, of rehearsals
Why should men be allowed to strut under the privilege of their life adventures, wearing them like a breast full of medals, while women went all gray and silent beneath the weight of theirs?