When an acquaintance goes by I often step back from my window, not so much to spare him the effort of acknowledging me as to spare myself the embarrassment of seeing that he has not done so.
I write almost entirely in bed or on a couch with my feet up on the coffee table. I feel most creative when I'm looking out the window, and my bed and couch have nice views of the New York skyline.
We have a rare and perhaps small window of opportunity to set partisan differences aside, and attempt to achieve what many in recent years have felt was unreachable - greater retirement security for ourselves and our children.
Well, you know I have an office, my film offices. So I know that syndrome. I fancy offices, so there must be something wrong with me. Even the window cleaner intrigues me. It's a very sexy environment.
Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experence.
The house built on the sand may oftentimes be built higher, have more fair parapets and battlements, windows and ornaments, than that which is built upon the rock; yet all gifts and privileges equal not one grace.
The Space Shuttle will stop directly below the Space Station and Sergei and I will be looking out two different windows looking straight down at the Space Shuttle.
I used to have to beg and borrow £25 to hire some French windows. I started producing in 1967, and I was in debt until 1981. Having a think about whether you can afford 'this' or 'that' is a good discipline to have, to maximise what you can achiev...
The velocity and knee-jerk response to events happening in real time that television brings us precludes any kind of reflection or contemplation and therefore analysis. And that's been one of the greatest political dangers in the post-war era. The id...
In 1964, Jeanne-Claude and I became illegal aliens. That's when we moved here from Paris. And for three years, we were illegal aliens living in an illegal building. At that time, some artists started to move to SoHo, and they put A.I.R. - artists-in-...
There's childhood and early onset bipolar, but it transitions in your early adulthood into something a little bit different, and extremely severe. It was at that time that my impulse control just went out the window. Impulse control when you're manic...
Lara: How far can bullets go? Daniel: They go pretty far but they usually get stuck in something and stop. Lara: What if they don't? Daniel: Are you thinking about that bullet that came through your window?
Tyler Durden: It's getting exciting now, two and one-half. Think of everything we've accomplished, man. Out these windows, we will view the collapse of financial history. One step closer to economic equilibrium.
Llewyn Davis: [talking to the cat] What's your name again? Llewyn Davis: [the cat escapes from him, through the window] Oh shit. No, no! Oh. Fuck, goddamnit, oh shit!
[Hogarth groans as he struggles to push the giant's hand out the bathroom window] Kent Mansley: You know, this sort of thing is why it's important to always chew your food.
Caption: He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.
[urging Mrs. de Winter to jump out the window and end her misery] Mrs. Danvers: Go ahead. Jump. He never loved you, so why go on living? Jump and it will all be over...
Linguini: Can I interest you in a dessert this evening? Anton Ego: Don't you always? Linguini: Which one would you like? Anton Ego: [to Remy, through the kitchen window] Surprise me!
[Remy hesitates at an open window, glancing back at the ruined soup] Gusteau: Remy! What are you waiting for? Remy: Is this going to become a regular thing with you? Gusteau: You know how to fix it. This is your chance.
Jeff: Why would a man leave his apartment three times on a rainy night with a suitcase and come back three times? Lisa: He likes the way his wife welcomes him home.
Lisa: How's your leg? Jeff: Hurts a little. Lisa: Your stomach? Jeff: Empty as a football. Lisa: And your love life? Jeff: Not too active. Lisa: Anything else bothering you? Jeff: Uh-huh, who are you?
