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
Panned or not, 'Dune' is a real part of science-fiction filmmaking.
Fred Armisen
I believe that, with anything in life, if you have the patience, desire and passion, you can do whatever you set your mind to.
Ed Viesturs
That's the thing with me being a former athlete: in the way I attack characters and attack poetry is from the base of being an athlete.
Omari Hardwick
'Supermodel' was a hard record for me; it was an emotional record to write. I was purging a lot of stuff with that album, and I think the one thing I didn't really consider, that I'd be supporting it for two years and living in that state of mind every night.
Mark Foster
Foster the People
One of the satisfactions of a genius is his will-power and obstinacy.
Man Ray
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