I will always have a stutter.

It's nothing to be ashamed of to have a stutter.

You can hear me starting to stutter and slur my words.

I don't think I ever felt an outsider when I had a stutter.

I had a stutter when I was a young. I went to speech therapy.

Well, no, you can prepare it all you want, but I'd still stutter.

When I'm nervous, I stutter, and I had to keep stopping and starting.

When you hear a banjo through stutter edit, it's the coolest thing you ever heard.

Liars do look you in the eye. They do not always stutter, stammer, blush or fidget.

Sometimes, when I'm trying to get my thoughts out, and I'm thinking too fast, I stutter.

I used to stutter really badly. Everybody thinks it's funny. And it's not funny. It's not.

The happiest stutterers, I learned, are those who are willing to stutter in front of others.

When I first started auditioning I would stutter a lot because I was so terribly frightened.

But now I've been in the arena for 47 years and I stutter less today than I did in those days.

Sometimes you have to stutter step; sometimes you have to spin inside. You have to run some games.

People don't know. People are ignorant. They feel that if you stutter, then you're slow or whatnot.

I didn't stutter when I was reading lines in a script. When I got away from myself, I didn't have that problem.

People only stutter at the beginning of the word. They're not afraid when they get to the end of the word. There's just regret.

If you botch a handoff or stutter step in a relay, then your team has to make up that lost time. It's always you versus the clock.

When I was younger and did a stand-up gig, it would take me two weeks to recover. Sometimes I'd get so panicked that I would stutter.

I had a bad stutter when I was really young. I couldn't get a sentence out. Like, 'D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-ad.' And that turned into a mumble.

I had a stutter 'till... I still do today. I just work on it a lot. I obsess, if you will, with it, but I stuttered throughout my childhood.

I used to not stutter any. Oh, I did when I was a kid, I stuttered, I had a bad stutter until I was probably between the second and third grade and a guy got rid of it for me.

Part of what was in the ether all around me growing up, until I was between 19 and 20, was a terrible, debilitating stutter. It was part of what made me very reclusive as a kid.

If you're a kid, it's all you think about if you stutter. Kids can be so mean. My grades suffered. Class participation weighs heavy in grading, and I wouldn't open my mouth to read or talk in front of anyone.

It has always seemed a cruel joke to me that the very word 'stutter' is difficult for many stutterers to pronounce. It is onomatopoeic, an imitation of the halting, repetitive sound made by people with this speech dysfunction.

Rebecca Black might sing like a robot, but that's just proof she has evolved beyond us. Her vocal is just a slightly exaggerated version of the robot glitch-twitch stutter that's been mainstream pop vocalese for the past 10 years or so.

Young adults living with a stutter is hard work. How do they handle job interviews? What do they do when the phone rings? How do they 'chat someone up'? All these things the average person takes for granted prove to be a stammerer's biggest challenge.

I have such bad memories, sitting in the back of a classroom, being told, you know, everybody is going to read a paragraph, and skipping ahead to my paragraph and being mortified and trying to read it enough times so that I wouldn't stutter and stammer, getting called on, even in high school.

I have an occasionally recurring stutter, but not when in character on stage in a play. Odd. James Earl Jones has the same pattern; he stutters in everyday life but not when acting. Preparation requires an actor's concentration to make the words belong to another person, which is its own sort of trance.

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