Victor Hugo Quotes
All who suffer are full of hatred; all who live drag a remorse: the dead alone have broken their chains.
Quotes to Explore
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Good cinema is what we can believe, and bad cinema is what we can't believe.
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Baseball is not a lot of statistics to me. It's blood and tears.
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One thing I really hate is experience. Experience for me doesn't work. Everybody's talking about experience this, experience that.
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You could cover the whole earth with asphalt, but sooner or later green grass would break through.
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There's so much to be afraid of.
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Imagination comes of not having things.
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I know there are thousands of images of me.
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I'm turning 30 years old this year ... it's better than 20, I'll tell you that. The lessons I've learned.
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There are reveries so deep, reveries which help us descend so deeply within ourselves that they rid us of our history. They liberate us from our name. These solitudes of today return us to the original solitudes.
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There is not always a good guy. Nor is there always a bad one. Most people are somewhere in between.
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Rosie laughed in a not too reassuring way if you like sane laughter.
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Every time I do a movie where it gets physical, I say never again.
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The outside world told black kids when I was growing up that we weren't worth anything. But our parents said it wasn't so, and our churches and our schoolteachers said it wasn't so. They believed in us, and we, therefore, believed in ourselves.
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Sometimes when family members least deserve love, they need it the most.
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It's hard to go out and practice every single day, and you get really tired. But you have to believe in yourself.
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I rarely think in words at all.
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Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
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In Shakespeare the birds sing, the bushes are clothed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls, time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and blood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions and ideas, man and humanity, the living and the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds and pearls, dung-hills and charnelhouses, the ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shakespeare.
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If we do not suffer a loss all the way to the end, it will wait for us. It won’t just dissipate and disappear. Rather, it will fester, and we will experience its sorrow later, in stranger forms.
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All who suffer are full of hatred; all who live drag a remorse: the dead alone have broken their chains.
