Marcel Proust Quotes
For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, continuous and indivisible passion. It is composed of an infinity of successive loves, of different jealousies, each of which is ephemeral, although by their uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity.
Marcel Proust
Quotes to Explore
One time, I was posing on a car for a calendar shoot. I was doused with oil and literally slid off the car, bikini, heels and all!
Candace Kita
I always thought that you breathe, you eat, you go to sleep, and you draw.
Paloma Picasso
I learned American Sign Language in college and seemed to pick it up rather quickly. I really love to sign and wish that I had more friends to sign with.
Candace Kita
I've always seen writing as a way of telling the truth. For me, writing is about truth. I have always tried to be faithful to my own experience.
Edmund White
Half of architecture students are women, and you see respected, established female architects all the time.
Zaha Hadid
The one good thing is that I get a lot more good scripts coming through my letterbox. 'Vera Drake' raised my profile in one way, and then 'Harry Potter' in another.
Imelda Staunton
Passion is one great force that unleashes creativity, because if you're passionate about something, then you're more willing to take risks.
Yo-Yo Ma
Have the courage to follow your passion - and if you don't know what it is, realize that one reason for your existence on earth is to find it.
Oprah Winfrey
The only thing I can point to of why I survived is I have a family that loves me and never wanted any money from me.
Ethan Hawke
I've had the hat for four years and it keeps getting better with age. It's been in the ocean and the pool several times, yet refuses to be destroyed. The shape only improved with weathering. I bought several for my storefront in NYC, but it felt like a fish out of water in the city. It cries out for the California coastline and the arid deserts of Africa.
Andy Spade
For what we suppose to be our love or our jealousy is never a single, continuous and indivisible passion. It is composed of an infinity of successive loves, of different jealousies, each of which is ephemeral, although by their uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity.
Marcel Proust