Adam Rippon Quotes
Quotes to Explore
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Unalloyed love of God is the essential thing. All else is unreal.
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I love high heels from the age of 10! Short skirts and then high heels. My classmates used to make fun of me. Like, 'Ooh, she's so skinny and she's wearing high heels.' But I just wore what I like, and I didn't care about people's opinions, the same as I don't care now.
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As I get older, the present and the past shift and become the past and the future... A lot of it is a new awareness of time and life and the wheel of fortune crushing you and lifting you and crushing you and lifting you.
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I never identified with anybody. I have always been very sensitive about my color, because everybody called me 'yellow gal.' I was caught in between both sides - nobody wanted me. I love that my audience is there, but I always feel as though I have to fend for myself.
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My dad used to give me a lot of spankings. Anything I did wrong, he was on me. I was raised by a strict disciplinarian. He kind of laid down the law.
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Whenever you argue with another wiser than yourself in order that others may admire your wisdom, they will discover your ignorance.
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As a kid I loved John McEnroe. They called me Mac because, while everyone else liked Borg, I was crazy about McEnroe. I tried wearing headbands and sweatbands, and whooping at people. It didn't quite work.
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I honestly don't read that much. Obviously I read chess books - in terms of favorites, Kasparov's 'My Great Predecessors' is pretty good.
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He is lost who is possessed by carnal desire.
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One of the things that may appeal to teenagers is that vampires never change - they're frozen in that age.
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In the Western tradition, the first writers were teachers and historians, vastly traveled, who spiced their reports with fantasies. They were also poets who sang and entertained prince and pauper.
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Looking forward, it might prove constructive to examine the true historical record of an issue prior to assuming the worst of anyone's motive and deconstructing and questioning anyone's Democratic bona fides. After all, we liberals got feelings.
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I'm a man for whom the outside world is an inner reality.
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In other periods of depression it has always been possible to see some things which were solid and upon which you could base hope, but as I look about, I now see nothing to give ground for hope - nothing of man. But there is still religion, which is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That continues as a solid basis for hope and courage.
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To me, it's always about quality not quantity.
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The character I created, 'Commissario Brunetti,' who appears in all my books, shares similar reading, artistic and musical tastes with me. Subconsciously, I knew that if I was to spend however long it would take to write this book with him, this man would have to be someone I'd like to have dinner with.
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Do you mind if I sit back a little? Because your breath is very bad.
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I read The Bell Jar, and then I read her memoir and her diaries, and a third book, an outside opinion. Just the way she made the pillows so neat on the oven door. It just seems to be the opposite of, if you're going to take your life, in a horrible rage it happens.
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You cannot be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, and the perfect actor all at the same time.
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Just as people asked ‘Why do they hate us?’ after 9/11, one evening I asked my father, ‘Why did they do this to us?’ He took a long breath and paused, deeply concerned about what he was about to say. ‘The Muslims bombed us because we are Christians. They want us dead because they hate us’ This hate was not because we had armies in the Middle East or because we supported Israel or for any of the reasons people easily turn to today. It was because we were Christians, infidels. As a child, I was just too young to understand all the political implications, but I understood one thing: people wanted to kill me simply because I was a Christian.
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That was the trouble with moving houses; no matter how carefully you packed the books, they never ended up on the new shelves in quite the right place.
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What was this dream we had, a dream of music,Music that rose from the opening earth like magicAnd shook its beauty upon us and died away?The long cold streets extend once more before us.The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.
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Nobody in love has a sense of humor.
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I don't follow the rules!
