David Cook Quotes

I'd always wanted to grow my hair out. And now looking back on those photos I understand why I probably shouldn't have ...

With the Chiefs, you can't live in Kansas City and not like the Chiefs. To go catch a game at Arrowhead is a pretty great experience. I haven't had the chance to go to games anywhere else, but, from what I'm told, I don't really need to.

I think the future is whatever I'm willing to make it.

I have to be involved. Whether it's me writing by myself or with other people, I definitely want to have my hand in the creative process. That's part of why I got into music in the first place.

I actually got to write with one of my musical heroes, a guy named Raine Maida from Our Lady Peace. I got to sit down and write some songs with him, and that was pretty heavy. I listened to Our Lady Peace growing up. It got me through the teenage angst.

It's amazing what a spray-on tan will do.

Life has a strange way of working itself out

Alcoholism is a well documented pathological reaction to unresolved grief.

If you wanna know the truth, you make or break my day. If you wanna know the truth, I wouldn't have it any other way.

There's definitely a visual aspect and an emotional aspect to a song. And that harks back, for me, to theater.

I think every good song tells a story, as ambiguous and vague as it may be. And if you know what a song is talking about, it can only help your performance.

Ready yourselves!' Mullone heard himself say, which was strange, he thought, for he knew his men were prepared.
A great cry came from beyond the walls that were punctuated by musket blasts and Mullone readied himself for the guns to leap into action. Mullone felt a tremor. The ground shook and then the first rebels poured through the gates like an oncoming tide. Mullone saw the leading man; both hands gripping a green banner, face contorted with zeal. The flag had a white cross in the centre of the green field and the initials JF below it. John Fitzstephen. Then, there were more men behind him, tens, then scores. And then time seemed to slow.
The guns erupted barely twenty feet from them.
Later on, Mullone would remember the great streaks of flame leap from the muzzles to lick the air and all of the charging rebels were shredded and torn apart in one terrible instant. Balls ricocheted on stone and great chunks were gouged out by the bullets. Blood sprayed on the walls as far back as the arched gateway, limbs were shorn off, and Mullone watched in horror as a bloodied head tumbled down the sloped street towards the barricade.
'Jesus sweet suffering Christ!' Cahill gawped at the carnage as the echo of the big guns resonated like a giant's beating heart.
Trooper O'Shea bent to one side and vomited at the sight of the twitching, bleeding and unrecognisable lumps that had once been men. A man staggered with both arms missing. Another crawled back to the ga

I'll find out who's inside. Wait here and keep alert!' Hallam rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building's eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside.
There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn't see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Hallam leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the colour of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Hallam put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back.
Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing moustache afterwards. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Hallam instinctively growled.
The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol's cold muzzle pressed against his forehead.
Hallam watched the man's eye

I'm competitive to a fault, so of course every week I'm just like, "I want to win, I want to do great."

If you can't do anything about it, laugh like hell.

What do we do if we come across trouble, sir?' Cahill asked, slapping at a fly. 'As much as I enjoy giving the rebel turds a walloping, it should be down to the Militia to keep the buggers in check.'
'They are doing their job,' Mullone said, glancing at a free-standing Celtic Cross that had once been a prominent feature beside the road, but was now strangled with weeds, besieged with dark moss and deeply pitted with age.
'If you call plundering, fighting and torture work, sir.'
'You don't have much faith in the peace talks then, Seán?'
'No, sir. There's more chance of me taking holy orders and becoming the Pope than there is of peace,' Cahill replied. 'The negotiations that spout from the politicians mouths are nothing but wet farts.'

-from Liberty or Death

I absolutely think the Seattle grunge sound was instrumental to my music education.

I fell in front of the SYTYCD dancers. I was tryin to do the twirl, and I bit it ... pretty hard. Then Michael Johns made fun of me, and ...

I never want to play a show where it feels overly programmed, processed, and all that. For anybody that comes to one of our shows, the goal for me is to make sure that's their show. That nobody else is going to see that show ever again. You know what I mean? I try to make it different every day.

I live for Tuesdays, and die by Wednesdays.

I got to play with ZZ Top and introduce Bryan Adams and George Michael. And to have it all topped off by me winning 'American Idol?!' It's pretty absurd.

Do you remember a time when men were men? When they would do anything for love, for their friends or for their country?'

No, I don't, but at least I would love to read about those men!

I will never shy away from embarrassing myself for a good cause

My brothers are my backbone. My parents are my oxygen. I can't live without them.