Anton Chekhov Quotes
Whoever sincerely believes that elevated and distant goals are as little use to man as a cow, that 'all of our problems' come from such goals, is left to eat, drink, sleep, or, when he gets sick of that, to run up to a chest and smash his forehead on its corner.
Anton Chekhov
Quotes to Explore
The whole point of music is being able to share your story. I've been songwriting for a long time, usually while on the road, as a way to get my feelings out.
Camila Cabello
Fifth Harmony
I don't sleep. I hate those little slices of death.
Walter Reisch
Manhattan seems pretty developed, you know what I mean? Like, it has peaked in culture.
M.I.A.
I'm an old trial lawyer.
Patrick Leahy
Sometimes I see through things when people are talking. I'm really sensitive to other people, so I can tell if somebody's putting on a front.
Banks
I really don't like to take the easy way out, if I can help it, on anything I do, I like to really make it a challenge. I don't know how to create by taking the easy routes. I've tried, you know, I've tried to let myself, but I always struggle to compensate.
Jack White
The White Stripes
I could list hundreds of words I've come up against in the course of my work that did not exist in the era of which I was writing and for which I never could find a suitably old-time, archaic or obsolete substitute.
Gary Jennings
I'm an idiot anyway, but sometimes you feel like an idiot times ten when you're stoned.
Billie Joe Armstrong
Green Day
It's never fun having to bulk up for a job on an action film, then lose weight for another role. I don't actually mind working out, but it's the diet: I'm half-French, so I love my food, and boiled chicken breast for breakfast is not my idea of a good meal.
Oliver Jackson-Cohen
Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.
Arthur Miller
Even a secret agent can't lie to a Jewish mother.
Peter Malkin
Whoever sincerely believes that elevated and distant goals are as little use to man as a cow, that 'all of our problems' come from such goals, is left to eat, drink, sleep, or, when he gets sick of that, to run up to a chest and smash his forehead on its corner.
Anton Chekhov