Pablo Neruda Quotes
Over your breasts of motionless current, over your legs of firmness and water, over the permanence and the pride of your naked hair I want to be, my love, now that the tears are thrown into the raucous baskets where they accumulate, I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable of mangled silver, alone with a tip of your breast of snow.
Quotes to Explore
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I started auditioning but at times would feel depressed, as I would get shortlisted but never received the final call. Only when the commercials were released would I come to know that I was not selected.
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Everyone fears the cut of the blade. It doesn't matter after that. I know the spirit survives as there is so much evidence of the survival of the personality in the afterlife.
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I have many different sides; I can be the life and soul of the party - or a wallflower.
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There's a puppy store near where I live. They know me by name in there because I go so often.
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I don't believe that intelligence can be reduced to a number, frankly. But I can see how doing exactly that produces a useful sorting mechanism in our society in order to separate children into categories of promising and doomed. The tests seem arbitrary and without real scientific value and yet have lasting consequences.
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I have a friend who is around my age, a little younger, and she's gay and came out to her own community when she was younger but not to her family and to the community at large.
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It's like why people read scary books or go see scary movies. Because it creates a distance. They're scared, but they're not going to get hurt.
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The kind of cynical politics of divide and conquer, that's shameful stuff, and I don't know - people live their life like that, but I don't know how they look back and feel good about themselves.
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There's a pleasure in being reminded of the value of ordinary life.
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A first kiss is hard to fake on screen. It's tempting to practice before you shoot, but why blow that natural awkwardness on a rehearsal? There's something so beautiful about it that can't be faked.
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I think Mr. Wilson will have to be the rest of the way alone.
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For a writer, they say write what you know. As a performer, you find it in yourself, in your heart. You relate to the character. You try to live it, try to have it be real for you.
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I think, especially in pop culture, we're brought up to think that a normal pop star is this pretty, well-kept-together girl.
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I played violin and got into that Suzuki program in the second grade.
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English football is so physical and fast that when you see a space, you have to go into it with all your speed.
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For whatever be the knowledge which we are able to obtain of God, either by perception or reflection, we must of necessity believe that He is by many degrees far better than what we perceive Him to be.
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With the scale of our traffic, content library and monetization ability, we are confident to see profitable growth in the future.
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When takers talk about mistakes, they're usually quick to place the blame on other people. Givers are more likely to say 'Here's the mistake I made; I learned the following from it. Here are the steps I'm taking to make sure I don't let people down in the future.'
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Heavy metal drives me bonkers, it makes me want to vomit, heavy metal really is a pile of puke.
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Accentuated plainness and accentuated vice ought to bring about harmony. Beauty lies in harmony, in style, whether it be the harmony of ugliness or beauty, vice or virtue.
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'Am I correct in assuming that I address Lord Arthur?' 'Yes, I'm Arthur.' Emelena mumbled something that Arthur correctly thought was about expecting him to be taller, more impressive, have lightning bolts coming out of his eyes, and so on.
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The officer looked at Daisy while she was speaking, in a way that every young girl wants to be looked at sometime, and because it seemed romantic to me I have remembered the incident ever since.
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All these portrayals we see of knights fighting must be absolute rubbish because knights in armour could literally have only had two or three blows and then they'd have had to sit down to have a cup of tea.
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Over your breasts of motionless current, over your legs of firmness and water, over the permanence and the pride of your naked hair I want to be, my love, now that the tears are thrown into the raucous baskets where they accumulate, I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable of mangled silver, alone with a tip of your breast of snow.
