Narrator: By mid-October, "The Howard Beale Show" had settled in at a 42 share, more than equaling all the other network news shows combined. In the Nielsen ratings, "The Howard Beale Show" was listed as the fourth highest rated show of the month, su...
Professor Fitz: Well, the cumulonimbus formations about which you speak that look like... Howard Hughes: Giant breasts full of milk. I want clouds, damn it. Professor Fitz: Yes, clouds that look like giant breasts full of milk, cannot exactly be guar...
The press is the enemy.
The Way to do is to be.
There are no ugly ducklings.
The foundation of beauty is the body.
No family is sane, is it?
Funny is funny is funny.
There is no normality in life.
A woman is a woman!
It was a mutual relationship.
My mom is a sculptress.
There's no beauty if there's no imperfection
We were vicious and violent but elegant and discreet. There was a dance to all of this, one that kept all things flowing in the right direction, a circle that ensured the smartest and brightest would stay on top, not the man with the most guns and th...
All things left her, all But one. Her highborn courtliness Accompanied her to the end, Beyond the rapture and its eclipse, In a way like an angel's. Of Elvira The first thing that I saw - such years ago - Was her smile and also it was the last.
If the angels were capable of envy, they would envy us for two things: one is the receiving of Holy Communion, and the other is suffering.
The first time I died, I didn't see God. No light at the end of the tunnel. No haloed angels. No dead grandparents. To be fair, I probably wasn't a solid shoo-in for Heaven. But, honestly, I kind of assumed I'd make the cut.
The classical anthropological question, What is man?—"how like an angel, this quintessence of dust!"—is not now asked by anthropologists. Instead, they commence with a chapter on Physical Anthropology and then forget the whole topic and go on to ...
I'm Sorry,' he says. It's simple and direct, with none of the nonsense about God calling home an angel too young and who are we to question his mysterious ways.
Whether our days trip along like the angels mounting on Jacob's ladder to heaven or grind along like the wagons that Joseph sent for Jacob, they are in each case ordered by God's mercy.
In my civilian world at home in Los Angeles, half the people I know are on antidepressants or anti–panic attack drugs because they can’t handle the stress of a mean boss or a crowd at the 7-Eleven when buying a Slurpee.
