After I was 70, I realized that, 'Okay, I would like to have another 50 years, and I probably could.' But part of me is saying, 'Maybe I'm not going to have that much time.'
Linda: [singing] We're going to get you. We're going to get you. Not another peep. Time to go to sleep.
[Nefretiri and Sephora look upon one another for the only time] Sephora: The queen of Egypt is beautiful, as he told me.
It seemed uncanny that words, spread across a page just so, had the power to transport me to another time or place. But they could.
Well, one always has an instinct to be a painter, and I've done quite a lot of painting at one time or another, though not with any public success.
It is a political thriller. It's very action packed and it's very exciting, but at the same time it's a very big soulful love story about longing and loss. They're not separate, they're completely dependent on one another.
We've all seen the mom who devotes all her time and attention to her child and is so hungry for adult interaction that as soon as she's around another adult, she's not paying attention anymore.
Well, I've thought many times when my career was in the toilet, that I was going to have to seriously consider getting another job, I don't know what I'd do.
Everyone is poor in one way or another, so there is no need to worry of where you belong, we are all rich and poor at the same time.
I sometimes think I cannot write another passage about a disappointing meal ever again, because I've done it so many times.
Pray that you are in the right place, at the right time, to meet the right person, that together you may help one another.
Every time I deal with another person, I’m reminded how little control I have over my life.
We switch to another language-- not our invented language or the language we've learned from our lives. As we walk further up the mountain, we speak the language of silence. This language gives us time to think and move. We can be here and elsewhere ...
Time and times are but cogwheels, unmatched, grinding on oblivious to one another. Occasionally - oh, very rarely! - the cogs fit; the pieces of the plot snap together momentarily and give men faint glimpses beyond the veil of this everyday blindness...
With the smell so close, the ocean came into view only a few moments later, sometimes peeking between old brick buildings with bright blue eyes, other times peering for a lingering moment like long lost relatives seeing one another for the first time...
...through reading, the modern man succeeds in obtaining an "escape from time" comparable to the "emegence from time" effected by myths. (...) Reading projects him out if his personal duration and incorporates him into other rythms, makes him live in...
Novels are written word by word. If you can write a word, and then another word, you can write a novel—assuming your novel will be two words long. Here’s a two-word romance novel: I do. It’s also a murder mystery.
But in another world, another life, probably growing up in another country, I might have been more of a dancer.
Hope does not kill; I shall live in hope of getting what I seek another day.
I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant ti...
There will never be another Frank Sinatra. I never wanted to be another Frank Sinatra. I only wanted to be another Michael Buble.
