I developed a nutty attitude where I'd think, If some guy really loves me he doesn't care if I'm fat. I'd come up with all these stupid reasons why it would be OK to be fat.
I don't care about age very much. I think back to the old people I knew when I was growing up, and they always seemed larger than life.
Biological age, I think because I've been taking care of myself for so long I know not just my reproductive organs but my heart, you know, are much younger than - than what I am.
Particularly at around the age of 70 you reach a stage where you have to be very careful. If, at that point, you abandon the work you have been doing, there is a good chance that you will just collapse and drift.
Never say never, but the thought of electively cutting oneself is beyond my grasp, and I also object to it politically. Denying the lines on our faces makes a comment about age and wisdom I don't care to make.
I really think we should pass a law in every state, I don't care whether it takes the independence away from an old person or not. You shouldn't be driving a car if you're over the age of 80. Maybe even less than that.
I wear clothes that most people in the Midwest would probably deem inappropriate at my age. And I rock a bikini all summer long. I know that it's not normal, but I just don't care. I live once.
I didn't grow up in a regular upbringing. I ended up at my grandmother's house past a certain age, so I took care of things myself. I moved out of home when I was 16.
No matter what it is you are cooking, buy the best ingredients you can afford. I don't care if it's a simple salad or Beef Wellington. A quality product stands alone and won't need any dressing up.
I just don't want to die alone, that's all. That's not too much to ask for, is it It would be nice to have someone care about me, for who I am, not about my wallet.
I'm really, really interested in the job of acting. I can really care less about being famous. I'm more about the work, and 'The Big C' was amazing, so I wanted to be a part of it.
With care, and skill, and cunning art, She parried Time's malicious dart, And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart and aged her in a day!
But there's the paradox of fiction - why do you cry when a fake character dies? It's the basis of art. You engage with people who don't exist and care about them as you would your friends and relatives.
The youth of an art is, like the youth of anything else, its most interesting period. When it has come to the knowledge of good and evil it is stronger, but we care less about it.
In my world, history comes down to language and art. No one cares much about what battles were fought, who won them and who lost them - unless there is a painting, a play, a song or a poem that speaks of the event.
Just stop, for once, answering my questions with a question. And, incidentally, it's my concern because I care about you.
People are supposed to care. It's good that people mean something to you, that you miss people when they're gone.
I care more about the people in books than the people I see every day.
What did she care what became of this world when her loved ones were dead and gone?
The ability to hurt someone is usually in direct proportion to how much that person cares about you.
And if sometimes, late at night in bed, I questioned whether or not I truly was insane, I told myself that it didn't matter. I was too happy to care.
