Before you start some work, always ask yourself three questions - Why am I doing it, What the results might be and Will I be successful. Only when you think deeply and find satisfactory answers to these questions, go ahead.
I made observations for three hours last night, and am almost ill today from fatigue; still I have worked all day, trying to reduce the places, and mean to work hard again tonight.
I think that the women's magazines and a lot of those quick tips for better sex, I think that they do people a disservice, sometimes, because they become very focused on - they're thinking, 'Okay, I read that I should do this, and am I doing it right...
I used to ask myself, ‘Sergei, would you rather spend your money on drink or women?’ and thanks to the club, I spend it on both and am called a patron of the arts.
I am...sad and angry. Why is my spirit so sad and angry? I look back at my life and all I can remember is rage and rage and rage.
Du weißt doch noch, die Leute beschweren sich immer beim Management, dass ihre Work-Life-Balance nicht mehr stimmt. Also, am nächsten Montag haben sie eine Personalversammlung zu diesem Thema angesetzt. Um acht Uhr früh.
Perhaps," you will add, grinning, "those who have never been slapped will also not understand" - thereby politely hinting that I, too, may have experienced a slap in my life, and am therefore speaking as a connoisseur.
Being free means "being free for the other," because the other has bound me to him. Only in relationship with the other am I free
Please don't arrest me." "Listen to me, I'm not going to arrest you, ok? I'm not a cop." "Are you sure?" "Am I sure I'm not a cop? yes, I'm sure." "You could be undercover.
She is always pretending she loves me, but look at her now. Am I in her thoughts? Is there a tender look in her eyes? Is she dreaming of me as she walks along the streets?
You've brushed your teeth," He says, staring at me. "I used your toothbrush." His lips quirk up in a half smile. "Oh Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?
No, I really did. I walked into that room and saw the hottest, sexiest guy I've ever seen - wet and half naked. And I said, "E ." I know. How am I still single, right?
We are strong and proud and beautiful and there are not enough stars in the night sky to measure our worth. I will honor my mother and take care of my family. Yes, I think. I am just a woman.
In no way am I demeaning writing or any other form of art because it's popular. What I'm saying is that anything fed into the industrial machinery to comply with rules of size and length and shelf-life has a hard time surviving as art.
You’re saying, “What the hell am I gonna do with her?” You’re saying, “Shit, did she take her pills?” You’re saying, “Once upon a time, I used to have a little girl.
When I think of existence, I cannot help but wonder, "What is life, anyway?" Where do I fit in the grand scheme of life? What is the point of it, anyway? Is this a test—and if so, am I passing it?
GLOUCESTER Now, good sir, what are you? EDGAR A most poor man made tame to fortune's blows, Who by the art of known and feeling sorrows Am pregnant to good pity.
Am reading the life of Mozart and cannot help thinking that one's capacity for suffering is in direct proportion to one's greatness.
I think first of the children. What the hell am I supposed to tell them? Then I think about money, the house, all those things no widow will tell you ever crossed her mind.
I make love like others make money. You’ve got to spend money to make money, right? If not, then why am I paying for sex?
Gemeinsam aber ist allen Menschen, die des guten Willens sind, dieses: daß unsere Werke uns am Ende beschämen, daß wir immer wieder von vorn beginnen müssen, daß das Opfer immer neu gebracht werden muß.
