William Butler Yeats Quotes
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
William Butler Yeats
Quotes to Explore
I don't understand why there aren't more powerful female directors. I don't have the answers, but I hope that things may start to shift and that studios will employ more women to handle strong and interesting material.
Sam Taylor-Johnson
My childhood was limited to mostly gospel music. We didn't have, like, a lot of records in our house, you know. It was like my grandparents who raised me. They were pretty old-fashioned in their religious ways, so it was like church, church, church, school, school, school.
Faith Evans
TV has grown so much. It is like a powerhouse medium.
Ram Kapoor
Education can become a self-fulfilling activity, liberating in and of itself.
Abraham Maslow
Being a woman in music was fine, but when I wanted to direct, I was poking my head into a man's world.
Barbra Streisand
I didn't hang around films. I don't know if I'd ever seen Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.
Patricia Highsmith
Can a film really change anything? I mean, what was the last time? Maybe the Italian neo-realists, where they became the voice and the heart and the soul of Italy, a nation that had been destroyed. I don't know.
Martin Scorsese
I was pregnant, and, like, 'Being a mom's going to be easy!' And now I'm like, 'Great.'
Laura Benanti
As time passes, we like to simplify our lives.
Hubert de Givenchy
A very good case can be made, on moral as well as economic grounds, for a system in which the individual is required to stand on his own feet, not to lean on the state for handouts. Character, resourcefulness, capacity are formed and developed in struggle with obstacles, not in waiting passively for benefits from outside.
William Henry Chamberlin
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
William Butler Yeats