As you get older; you've probably noticed that you tend to forget things. You'll be talking with somebody at a party, and you'll know that you know this person, but no matter how hard you try, you can't remember his or her name. This can be very emba...
I'm starting to shake it off, I am quite self-conscious, and it's only when I'm playing roles that I can escape that. The older I get, the more people tell me it's absolutely fine to be the way you are with all your quirks and nuances, and I wish I'd...
I think if you ask people why they watch me, there would be some common thread among all of them that I'm somewhat of an awkward older sister. I have a teen, mostly female demographic. How that happened, I don't know. But I think they see me as some ...
Ed Tom Bell: [talking to Ellis] I always figured when I got older, God would sorta come inta my life somehow. And he didn't. I don't blame him. If I was him I would have the same opinion of me that he does.
Richard Vernon: You think about this: when you get old, these kids - when *I* get old - they're going to be running the country. Carl: Yeah. Richard Vernon: Now this is the thought that wakes me up in the middle of the night. That when I get older, t...
One of the reasons I did 'Louie Bluie' and 'Crumb' with Criterion was because I like a lot of their older French films. That's the only reason. I watch these films by Jacques Becker and Jean-Pierre Melville. 'Touchez Pas Au Grisbi,' stuff like that. ...
In a world that thought itself so wise yet behaved so stupidly, it was possible sometimes to believe that only the mad saw matters as they truly were, that only people like my brother were prepared to admit what they saw from the corner of their eye.
And what, brothers, I had to escape into sleep from then was the horrible and wrong feeling that it was better to get the hit than give it. If that veck had stayed I might even have like presented the other cheek.
I don't care what you think. You're not my brother," Clary said. "You're a murderer." "I really don't see how those things cancel each other out," said Sebastian.
I want to kill this degenerate bastard brother of yours. But I am not selfish, I do not want to deprive you of that honor.
A man's heart does not love like a woman's, Lorelei. Logren would lay down and die if he thought his death would save your life because you are his sister, but his tongue is not so easily guided by his brother's heart.
He’d meant to forgive his brother, maybe even imagined he had. He’d also meant to learn to trust him, but instead merely fell into the habit of waiting for him to fuck up again.
My brother and I were able to fantasize far more extravagantly about our parents' tastes and desires, their aspirations and their vices, by scanning their bookcases than by snooping in their closest. Their selves were on their shelves.
It's a funny things about human nature. Nobody ever wonders why they've got a healthy brother or a perfect kiddie. Anything goes wrong, though, we soon start why, oh why...
If you can’t see the feelings in a donkey, a ship, or a delicate tool, then it’s just as easy to not see them in your brother or sister when you can profit by treating them badly.
Thousands of years ago the first man discovered how to make fire. He was probably burnt at the stake he'd taught his brothers to light, but he left them a gift they had not conceived and he lifted darkness from the face of the Earth.
Our friendship, for example, and how quickly we passed through each other, from fascinated strangers to loyal chums to relics of each other's world. We'd been pawns of proximity, choiceless as brothers.
Who set Rome on fire? The man we must admire. For killing his wife, and taking the life of mother and brother and so many others, while plucking his damnable lyre.
The people your brother killed - well, they all had souls. They weren't Satan. Ryu Yohan wasn't Satan, either. His faith was twisted, that's all. I know now. I know that God is innocent. (2007: 143)
I felt like I was seeing Shannon through a new lens, undistracted by Jennifer's nuclear glow. I could see how pretty she really was, how kind her eyes were.
And before me the empty table at the Theater Café with my reservation - Barnum Nilsen, 8PM - the only table no one sits at. And this too is an echo, an echo of time, the shadows of a discus spinning through blinding sunlight.
