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
I never sing in the shower either.
Barbra Streisand
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
Not only do I not drive, I don't have my driver's license; there's a story there, but the upshot is that I spent my high school years an ardent environmentalist and workout junkie who wanted to save the environment, burn calories, and have my boyfriends drive me around.
Rachel Sklar
Hi. My name is Debby, and I am a storyteller. I don't think of myself as an actress. I am more like a face that takes words on a page, and puts them in front of your eyes.
Debby Ryan
There are no more geniuses, only critics.
Arnold Schoenberg
It is necessary to abandon yourself completely, and let the music do as it will with you. All people come to music to seek oblivion.
Claude Debussy
There are plenty of mothers who should not be allowed to raise their children.
Bernadine Dohrn
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