Victor Hugo Quotes
Not ill? No truly, I am young, healthful, and strong; the blood flows freely in my veins; my limbs obey my will; I am robust in mind and body, constituted for a long life. Yes, all this is true; and yet, nevertheless, I have an illness, a fatal illness,-an illness given by the hand of man!
Quotes to Explore
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If you love a young writer, maybe the best thing you can do is give them a little bit of space.
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Iraq did not spontaneously opt for disarmament. They did it as part of a ceasefire, so they were forced to do it, otherwise the war might have gone on. So the motivation has been very different.
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Any writer will be happy and good only if they know what they're doing and why they're doing it.
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I grew up doing martial arts, and I'm a second-degree black belt.
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As a musician usually music is your way out.
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We may define therapy as a search for value.
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Remember that whatever may be said by a lady or her friends, it is not part of conduct of a gallant or generous man to take up arms against a woman.
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Sweet is good. I'm not a fan of deep-fried things.
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Our first phase was inviting all the women Ambassadors who were here from other countries and trying to get in touch with all the peace centers around the country in order to focus on increasing the volume and activity toward peace.
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Revision has its own peculiar pleasures and its own peculiar frustrations. The ground rules are already established; the characters already exist. You don't have to bring the characters to life, but you do have to make them more convincing.
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When enacted, health care reform provides generous tax credits to help people afford their health insurance premiums.
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Prior to 2001, hardly any company in North America or Europe would buy from India.
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Music in movies is all about dissonance and consonance, tension and release.
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The only advantage to being a middle-aged man is that when you put on a jacket and tie, you're the Scary Dad. Never mind that no one has had an actually scary dad since 1966. The visceral fear remains.
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What is writing but an expression of my own life?
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I wasn't thinking that I was two horrors back to back; I was thinking these were characters that I want to play.
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I just want my kids to have the space of childhood to explore themselves as fully as possible.
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I'm looking forward to getting back to my house and my Ugg boots and not washing sometimes, and getting back to writing.
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I like to work with really good professional people - anyone with real talent.
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My mom and I are very close.
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I truly have a great love for an audience, and I used to want to prove it to them by giving them blood.
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It is a sunny fall afternoon and I’m engaged in one of my favorite pastimes—picking chestnuts. I’m playing alone under the spreading, leafy, protective tree. My mother is sitting on a bench nearby, rocking the buggy in which my sister is asleep. The city, beyond the lacy wall of trees, is humming with gentle noises. The sun has just passed its highest point and is warming me with intense, oblique rays. I pick up a reddish brown chestnut, and suddenly, through its warm skin, I feel the beat as if of a heart. But the beat is also in everything around me, and everything pulsates and shimmers as if it were coursing with the blood of life. Stooping under the tree, I’m holding life in my hand, and I am in the center of a harmonious, vibrating transparency. For that moment, I know everything there is to know. I have stumbled into the very center of plenitude, and I hold myself still with fulfillment, before the knowledge of my knowledge escapes me.
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So long as a novelist works selfishly for the pleasure of creating character and situation corresponding to his own illusions, ideals and intuitions, he will always produce something worth while and natural. Directly he takes himself too seriously and begins for the alleged benefit of humanity an elaborate dissection of complexes, he evolves a book that is more ridiculous and tiresome than the most conventional cold cream girl novel of yesterday.
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Not ill? No truly, I am young, healthful, and strong; the blood flows freely in my veins; my limbs obey my will; I am robust in mind and body, constituted for a long life. Yes, all this is true; and yet, nevertheless, I have an illness, a fatal illness,-an illness given by the hand of man!
