Amy Lowell Quotes
How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree; The moon Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection?
Quotes to Explore
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Would the world be a better place if all drugs were legalized tomorrow? Absolutely. But pragmatically speaking, you're not going to go from the criminalization of all drugs to the legalization of drugs overnight.
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Philosophers, as things now stand, are all too fond of offering criticism from on high instead of studying and understanding things from within.
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'One Hundred Years of Solitude' is a masterpiece because it is an episodic novel that has a rigorous form - an unprecedented combination. From the very beginning we know the town of Macondo will endure only a century, so there is a limit to the length of the narrative.
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There are a lot of good men's magazines. In England, you have 'Arena Homme+' and 'Another Man;' and in France we have 'L'Officiel Hommes.' But all are looking similar.
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A church is a place in which gentlemen who have never been to heaven brag about it to persons who will never get there.
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I am sure that the party system is right and necessary. There must be some scum.
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I write my own songs. I made my own videos. I pick my producers. Nothing goes out without my permission. It's all authentic.
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Dell fills its computers with crapware, collecting fees from McAfee and other vendors to pre-install 'trial' versions.
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As long as the dollar remains in high esteem as a trade currency, America can continue to spend more than it earns. But when the day arrives - as it certainly must - when the dollar tumbles and foreigners no longer want it, the free ride will be over.
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There's no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another.
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I have born-again Christians in my family, and they are completely against abortion... Everybody's got to stop being afraid of it real soon. Who's going to do it if a woman's network doesn't? People are going to be dying.
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Happiness is a mysterious concept. It seems to work best as futurity: at that point I will be happy, et cetera. I feel like I experience small pieces of joy day to day.
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Boy, I'll tell you, when the Rams drafted me No. 1, it surprised me. I was walking on air for days.
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I think it is valuable and should be valued by its consumers. Charging for content forces discipline on journalists: they must produce things that people actually value.
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I have a fascination with Flight 93. My emotions are mixed: awe, gratitude, fear, heartache, pride - even, in some ways, guilt.
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'The Art Student's War' is, at its core, a traditional American wartime love story. As such, it is timely and engrossing. By the end, all its principal characters 'have been to Hell and back.'
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I'd love to open a camp focusing on the arts accessible to kids from all income brackets.
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Dried porcini add a substantial, deep flavour to otherwise more neutral vegetables. I use them in risottos, mashed roots and winter soups.
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I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And by the grace of God, I will
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Walter Payton is still the best back ever to play the game.
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This morning, I went to wipe my hands on a tea towel, and while I was using it, it seemed like it felt a bit light. I unfolded it and realized my daughter had cut little bits out of it to make frocks for her dolls!
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Immediate, simultaneous connection between the audience and a performer is crucial to me. It's why I do what I do. Other things, like recording, are satisfying, but they're not the same. I love the connection I get with the audience when I'm sitting behind that piano.
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I still when I wake up hit the ground running; and having an illness, I'm only one of hundreds of thousands of people that live with an illness, and I'm just in awe of the bravery and dignity of the people I see at the hospital.
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How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree; The moon Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection?
