Johanna: You really send him under the ice? He isn't a slave or convict or anything, is he? Dr. Laurence: My dear, science is a cruel mistress. Johanna: How is he going to breathe? Dr. Laurence: He isn't.
[Enzo pulls out a whiskey flask in a diving bell] Noireuter: Is that alcohol? That's *really* forbidden! Enzo: Hey, do you have any more complaints? Just make a list and we'll stick it on the porthole, OK?
Mère Emma: Shall we toast? [pauses] Mère Emma: To love. Emma: [laughing] To love. Adèle: To love. Mère Emma: Welcome Adèle. Adèle: Big words. To love. Mère Emma: Yes, to love, my love.
The blues are intent and watchful. “You’re trying to get me to change my mind, aren't you?” “Lilah, I constantly hope that you are going to change your mind, but I know you well enough to know that you won’t.” I just nod at him.
There are so many cruel decisions parents have to make when their child dies. The funeral director requested a sheet for the coffin, and I sent the cozy flannel one, pale blue with happy snowmen, that had just been put away with the winter linens.
Listen, man: I am not the industrial godfather, king, whatever. I don't relish that title. I don't like it. I think it's limiting. I do country, I do blues. I don't just go straight.
I went out for a film where they wanted seven brothers and one sister, so I was there for half a day while they were waiting for 'Archie' to read for a boy... I've had drivers come to pick me up in England looking for a blond, blue-eyed Scottish boy.
Those beautiful, green-blue eyes that change colour like they're bewitched, and look deep into my soul, making me see my true self. Right now, I don't like what I see.” -Nik Driver
The blues is like a planet. It's an enormous topic. You can't ignore the impact that it has had and continues to have on the whole musical culture. It's a tree that everyone is swinging from. Without it, I don't know where I would be. It's indelible ...
My room was in one of those turrets and at night I could hear the sea and the faint rustle of eelgrass in the soft wind. The weather was perfect that summer. No storms. Blue skies and just the right amount of wind every day. The sailors were in heave...
She walked among the stars, The princess of the heavens, Looking for the one who caught her crystal tears That spilled out from liquid ice blue eyes- Rolling down pale cheeks- Then sealed up tenderly... In pearl alabaster jars...
The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls man towards the infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural... The brighter it becomes, the more it loses its sound, until it turns into silent stillness ...
Well, there is one boy- a boy that I've thought about forever. The sad part about it is that he lives in a world that only exists when the sun has expired and the moon stands alone in the sky- my dreams. Very sad to say it, but he'd the only boy I've...
Although, I admit, I desire, Occasionally, some backtalk From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: A certain minor light may still Lean incandescent Out of kitchen table or chair As if a celestial burning took Possession of the most obtuse object...
Politics is good; when it works properly, disagreements get solved without people beating each other up. But when a regime knows its days are numbered, there's always the chance it may use its position to change the rules and make the debate it is lo...
Time talks behind our back. To our face it's friendly and logical, never hesitating to give more of itself. But when we're not looking, it steals our lives and says bad things about us to the parts of us it's stolen
The best remedy for those who are frightened, lovely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere they can be alone, alone with the sky, nature and God. For then and only then can you feel that everything is as it should be and that God wants people to be ...
We are fighters and survivors. We are here. We are alive and breathing, living and loving, birthing and caring, working and earning. The sky is above us. The earth is below us. We can never be poor. ~ NanaAnna
Once a month, ripe with psychic energy, the moon grows to Her zenith. Blazing full with the sun's rays through the night sky, it is with great compassion and love for her children that she luminesces.
But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see... I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.
But at sunset the clouds gathered again, bringing an earlier night, and the snow began to fall straight and steadily from a sky without wind, in a soft universal diffusion more confusing than the gusts and eddies of the morning. It seemed to be a par...
