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
I read everything. When I say everything, I read everything: children's literature, Y.A., science fiction, fantasy, romance - I read it all. Each genre fulfills a different need I have. Each book teaches me something.
Jesmyn Ward
I'm not a first-place person.
Amy Sedaris
Back in my days as a chemistry student, I used to be quite a technocrat. I was firmly convinced that scientists would have cornered God and photographed Him in color by 1951.
Kurt Vonnegut
For me, now, working and children is it. There's nothing more to life.
Aidan Gillen
Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart Push in their tides; And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads, The things of light File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
Dylan Thomas
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