Caroline Llewellyn Quotes
Night doesn't fall in Rome; it rises from the city's heart, from the gloomy little alleys and courtyards where the sun never gets much more than a brief look-in, and then, like the mist from the Tiber, it creeps over the rooftops and spreads up into the hills.
Quotes to Explore
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But the soul of touring and the heart of it is basically every day is like putting up a circus tent.
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If you knew you could change your lifestyle and diet and avoid heart disease and other things, you should do it.
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Friday night is our date night. We really carve out time for each other.
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I remember driving the tractor on our farm, and Tim McGraw would be on the radio. I'd find myself walking out of class, singing his songs. And then Tim ended up playing my father in 'Friday Night Lights.' It was surreal.
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So many people are working in vaudeville today that I looked for three weeks to book enough acts for an hour bill and didn't have them until the night before we opened in Buffalo and money was no object!
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Scarce any problem will appear more hard and difficult, than that of determining the distance of the Sun from the Earth very near the truth: but even this... will without much labour be effected.
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We've got our own daylight to get bad thoughts away, and we talk with that light - our star in our heart. We take away what's unimportant.
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The Proclamation does not, indeed, mark out exactly the course I should myself prefer. But I am ready to take it just as it is written, and to stand by it with all my heart.
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I worked at a hot dog place, a bagel place, the Jersey Store and the hottest fashion joint around. I was getting too famous to work there anymore. I was almost showing up as a joke. I made $2,000 on my show the previous night and I'm going to go shopping during my five-hour shift.
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There can be a fundamental gulf of gracelessness in a human heart which neither our love nor our courage can bridge.
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The Lord opened the understanding of my unbelieving heart, so that I should recall my sins.
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A liberal education is at the heart of a civil society, and at the heart of a liberal education is the act of teaching.
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As writers, we must keep throwing problems at our characters. Conflict is the heart of good storytelling. Hiking in nature along a twisting trail can remind us what a good story feels like. It's the opposite of a treadmill - or an interstate highway.
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Music is therapy. Music moves people. It connects people in ways that no other medium can. It pulls heart strings. It acts as medicine.
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In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable.
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We turn off the TV, video games and computer - except for homework - during the week. The TV's reserved for Friday night, Saturday and Sunday just because that's the time to do homework, and it makes it that much less chaotic in our house.
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Give me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling!
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Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night!I feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength.
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By the mid-’90s, the anger at men had become so palpable that even sedate publications like The Economist were characterizing women’s vs. men’s workload as 'A woman’s work is never done; a man is drunk from sun to sun.'
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A new breeze is blowing, and a world refreshed by freedom seems reborn; for in man's heart, if not in fact, the day of the dictator is over. The totalitarian era is passing, its old ideas blown away like leaves from an ancient, lifeless tree.
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Suddenly, quietly, you realize that - from this moment forth - you will no longer walk through this life alone. Like a new sun this awareness arises within you, freeing you from fear, opening your life. It is the beginning of love, and the end of all that came before.
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The night where we all come together to celebrate Broadway and the impact around the world! Tony's night is alive and well.
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I am in agreement with income-tax protesters that the tax, as commonly applied, is unconstitutional, unfair, and immoral.
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Night doesn't fall in Rome; it rises from the city's heart, from the gloomy little alleys and courtyards where the sun never gets much more than a brief look-in, and then, like the mist from the Tiber, it creeps over the rooftops and spreads up into the hills.
