No,” said Bran. “I haven’t. And if I have it doesn’t matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she’d told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say. You have to visit th...
Everyone wants something that'll appeal to, like, 13-year-olds to 18-year-olds. Especially working in television and trying to pitch shows, they're like, 'We definitely want something that a 14-year-old will be, like, super-psyched about.' And I'm li...
No single man makes history. History cannot be seen, just as one cannot see grass growing. Wars and revolutions, kings and Robespierres, are history's organic agents, its yeast. But revolutions are made by fanatical men of action with one-track mind,...
Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hid...
To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures who people the tree of your life and give it new branches. To lose your father ...
Just like that. Gone forever. They will not grow old together. They will never live on a beach by the sea, their hair turned white, dancing in a living room to Billie Holiday or Nat Cole. They will not enter a New York club at midnight and show the p...
Sitting in the wicker rocking chair with her interrupted work in her lap, Amaranta watched Aureliano José, his chin covered with foam, stropping his razor to give himself his first shave. His blackheads bled and he cut his upper lip as he tried to s...
The last great escape. I was done gambling, done betting on a ship that would never come in. I would cash in my chips while I was ahead. I didn't want to suffer the growing old, didn't want to wait until my memory went. It was all so tiresome. I woul...
Mal: We'd be together forever. You promised me. Cobb: I know. But we can't. And I'm sorry. Mal: You remember when you asked me to marry you? You said you dreamt that we'd grow old together. Cobb: But we did. We did. You don't remember?... I miss you ...
Del: When I'm dead and buried, all I'll leave behind are some shower curtain rings that didn't fall down. Some legacy, huh? Neal: At the very least, the absolute minimum, you'll have a woman you love to grow old with. You love her, don't you? Del: Lo...
Anna: When I was little, we found a man. He looked like - like, butchered. The old woman in the village crossed themselves... and whispered crazy things, strange things. "El Diablo cazador de hombres." Only in the hottest years this happens. And this...
Dr. McCoy: You're hiding... hiding behind rules and regulations. Kirk: Who am I hiding from? Dr. McCoy: From yourself, Admiral. Kirk: Don't mince words, Bones. What do you really think? Dr. McCoy: Jim, I'm your doctor and I'm also your friend. Get ba...
Marianne Borg: I saw you with your mother, and I was panic-stricken. Professor Isak Borg: I don't understand. Marianne Borg: I thought: That's his mother. An old woman, cold as ice, more forbidding than death. And this is her son, and there are light...
Believe reality is what you were taught was myth.
When I was growing up, my parents took in foster children. From a young age, I learned that there are a lot of children in need.
Photography can never grow up if it imitates some other medium. It has to walk alone; it has to be itself.
When I was growing up, all the art that touched me was lens-generated, like Gerhard Richter, or Polke, Rauschenberg, Warhol.
So many believe that it is love that grows, but it is the knowing that grows and love simply expands to contain it.
Poetry is never abandon it is only remixed.
The question should be who do we want to be when we grow up, not what.
The only show my mother could afford to take me to when I was growing up was 'Cats', for my birthday.
