[Boo, scared of the closet, shows Sully a picture] Sulley: Hey, that looks like Randall. Randall's your monster. You think he's gonna come out of the closet and scare you? [Opens closet and walks inside] Sulley: Look, it's empty. No monster in here. ...
Lloyd: Gibbons? [seeing the front deak empty and turning towards the bathroom] Lloyd: Gibbons, c'mon man, you can't leave the desk like that! [opens the outer bathroom door] Lloyd: Gibbons! [opens the inner bathroom door, sees Gibbons tied to a urina...
To me, all creativity is magic. Ideas start out in the empty void of your head - and they end up as a material thing, like a book you can hold in your hand. That is the magical process. It's an alchemical thing. Yes, we do get the gold out of it but ...
I am the woman in words Blindfolded by the told Characters were sold. Phrases and signs, music pictures Are only the swords To make the world goes. Emptiness, sadness And happiness are the signature For the stories are unfold. Nostalgic, doubtness Pr...
I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth. I try to block out the words... Try to stop them... But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here—not running, not even trying to escape. “...
Look at that," he said. "How the ink bleeds." He loved the way it looked, to write on a thick pillow of the pad, the way the thicker width of paper underneath was softer and allowed for a more cushiony interface between pen and surface, which meant m...
(2002) In Rome, month upon month, I struggled with how to structure the book about my father (He already had the water, he just had to discover jars). At one point I laid each chapter out on the terrazzo floor, eighty-three in all, arranged them like...
None were left now to unname, and yet how close I felt to them when I saw one of them swim or fly or trot or crawl across my way or over my skin, or stalk me in the night, or go along beside me for a while in the day. They seemed far closer than when...
Whisper me a kiss… Softly… softly brushing my cheek As an - Oh! - so delicate caress… A gentle kiss upon my fingertips, So healing in its tenderness… Breathing your kiss upon my mouth, You softly whisper me a kiss… Oh! Whisper me a kiss… ...
[the Mercury Seven walk through the space center after the response to Yuri Gagarin's space shot] John Glenn: I'm tired of being forthright, gracious and magnanimous. Gordon Cooper: Yeah. John Glenn: I'm tired of these stupid questions from the press...
[HAL's shutdown] HAL: I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am a ...
Love Was Love Will Be But Most of All, Love is. Life Cannot Be Without It It is found in the Womb In The Woods In The Stars. To Be or Not to Be To Love, or not to Love They Are Equal. My Soul Whispers Into the Spaces. Yes.
The Buddha taught that most problems - if only you give them enough time and space - will eventually wear themselves out.
And his eyes were fluttering shut, and his sinner’s smile- that wickedly wondrous thing- was less than an inch from mine. And soon enough, there was no space between them at all. He tasted like chances.
You can't discuss the ocean with a well frog - he's limited by the space he lives in. You can't discuss ice with a summer insect - he's bound to a single season.
The real origin of the democratic spirit - and most likely, many democratic institutions - lies precisely in those spaces of improvisation just outside the control of governments and organized churches.
We are graced with a godlike ability to transcend time and space in our minds but are chained to death.
Unbelievable,” I said when it was done. And and and and so on, because is never good enough for the artists; they always want to know exactly what you mean and which nanosecond of the song you mean it about.
Join us next time for Days of the Undead when Rachel learns her long lost brother is really a crown prince from outer space.
But we were talking about me and my problems." Sophronia looked Monique up and down gravely. "I don't think we're going to solve those in the space of one carriage ride.
You see," she concluded miserably, "when I can call like that to him across space--I belong to him. He doesn't love me--he never will--but I belong to him.
