Charlotte Bronte Quotes
A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away-away-to an indefinite distance-it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept.
Quotes to Explore
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A painting probably is the most shocking increase in value, from what it costs to make to what you sell it for.
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My dad is extremely successful, so I've seen the money and luxury growing up. I'm nowhere close to his stature.
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For me, surfing is as close a connection I can have with Mother Nature. To surf, you're riding a pulse of energy from Mother Nature. And it's strong. It's real. It's there. And you're dancing with that. You're connecting with that. You're might be the only person in the history of the universe that connects with that particular pulse of energy.
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Finishing games has been something I'm really proud of, seeing something through to the end.
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I was very good in all the maths and sciences.
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Yes, I guess I am bi-coastal.
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I myself consider myself the most powerful figure in the world.
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Suffrage is a common right of citizenship. Women have the right of suffrage. Logically it cannot be escaped.
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I'm excellent at losing weight, but I've never been excellent at maintenance. I have some better days than others in terms of being hypervigilant, but with maintenance you don't know if you've been good at it until you're done.
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Do not give up your dream because it is apparently not being realized, because you cannot see it coming true. Cling to your vision with all the tenacity you can muster. Keep it bright; do not let the bread-and-butter side of life cloud your ideal or dim it.
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Growing up in India, I knew all I needed to change the world was one good opportunity, and I prepared myself for it. When that opportunity came - in the form of the chance to earn an engineering degree - I was ready.
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The creative impulses of man are always at war with the possessive impulses.
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Modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.
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I have a fat head – I get freaked-out looking at pictures of me.
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I read pretty eclectically - fiction, non-fiction, and poetry - and I've been inspired and influenced by a number of writers.
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I don't remember my first race, but I do recall various school sports days where I became way too competitive. We were seven or eight years old, and I had a very stern conversation with my relay team-mates about how crucial it was for us to win.
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The road system that we've come to depend on, the road system that we built our wealth on and our power on, is falling apart.
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When I got out of high school, I was working in restaurants in New York City, when I heard Bill Anderson from The Neighborhood Playhouse was doing private lessons. I started taking classes, and it was a lot of improv and Meisner and repetition.
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I feel like actors, having spent a lot of time on movie sets, tend to make decent directors, because they've been there, they know what they're doing, they've seen it done right, they've seen it done wrong, and they feel comfortable. There's not a lot of chin-scratching and wondering what your next move is.
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I really liked watching Bo Jackson run just because of his size and his speed.
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I don't think Michael had to retire for us to get the spotlight, because when you win, it commands attention.
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I can clearly trace my passion for reading back to the Jonesboro, Georgia, library, where for the first time in my life I had access to what seemed like an unlimited supply of books. This was where I discovered 'Encyclopedia Brown' and 'Nancy Drew,' 'Gone With the Wind' and 'Rebecca.' This was where I became inspired to be a writer.
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blessing the boats (at saint mary’s) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our understanding carry you out beyond the face of fear may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back may you open your eyes to water water waving forever and may you in your innocence sail through this to that
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A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away-away-to an indefinite distance-it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept.
