I wear my Viking helmet because the horns define how sharp my brains are. If you try to rub me the wrong way, I will stick you with both of my horns.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
For a long time, I dressed like an idiot. In college, I had a fully shaved head with just two horns. Like, a coxcomb of hair that I would sculpt into two horns. I looked like a crazy person.
When you're a Viking, you never know when you're going to get the axe.
I love horns, and the bigger the band, the better it sounds to my ear.
Talk of the devil, and his horns appear.
Do I wear a helmet? Ugh. I do when I'm riding through a precarious part of town, meaning Midtown traffic. But when I'm riding on secure protected lanes or on the paths that run along the Hudson or through Central Park - no, I don't wear the dreaded helmet then.
You never toot your own horn.
In sailing, I single-hand, and I want to do the Horn. The Horn is the maximum expression of sailing, the way the Iditarod is the maximum expression of running dogs. It's not to write about it; it's to experience the maximum thing.
I hate to blow my own horn, but I gave a lot of people fits.
I love the French horn.
If somebody tells you that you have ears like a donkey, pay no attention. But if two people tell you so, buy yourself a saddle.
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