I'm a conservative - a practicing one. I'm not a talk-about-it one.
I'm Going To Be Great One Day
The musicians one day are going to listen to me.
One time we did have 300 acres in watermelons. That was fun.
One thing you cannot control is nature.
One has only as much morality as one has philosophy and poetry.
I'd love to do a musical one day - a theatre musical.
Love is more than one thing.
My music is not really about one ideology. It's not about one truth.
All for one, one for all, that is our device.
For one to succeed, one must be a assured of failure.
Game is bipolar. One day he's this way, the next day he's the next.
The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.
One's ignorance is one's chief asset.
From time to time I try to imagine this world of which he spoke--a culture in whose mythology words might be that precious, in which words were conceived as vessels for communications from the heart; a society in which words are holy, and the challen...
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...
Malcolm Crowe: Once upon a time there was this person named Malcolm. He worked with children. He loved it. He loved it more than anything else. And then one night, he found out that he made a mistake with one of them. He couldn't help that one. And h...
[discussing the body count] Dr. Einstein: You got twelve, they got twelve. [angrily grabs Dr. Einstein's necktie] Jonathan Brewster: I've got thirteen! Dr. Einstein: No, Johnny, twelve - don't brag. Jonathan Brewster: Thirteen! There's Mr. Spinalzo a...
So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days. One may be preoccupied with shopping and income tax returns and chance conversations, but the stream of the unconscious continues to flow undisturbed, solving problems, planning ahead: o...
I have been reading three books Dean lent me this week. One was like a rose garden--very pleasant, but just a little too sweet. And one was like a pine wood on a mountain--full of balsam and tang--I loved it, and yet it filled me with a sort of despa...
Your writing can be chosen by one publisher and hated by all readers, or it can be rejected by one publisher and loved by all readers. Most of the time it’s somewhere in between, but either way, don’t let rejection stop you from being hated.
