Pictures Quotes
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For Christmas I do gift bags for my friends and the cast, and I put 'treat yo self' key chains in there. And people send me pictures of 'treat yo self' all the time.
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Of the nude pictures: Sure I posed. I needed the money.
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A photographer's best pictures are from deep inside him, and also some of the worst. Some photographers enjoy distinguished careers without ever taking personal photographs. Others, audaciously and arrogantly and courageously discharge their most private feelings through photography. Trouble is, sometimes it all adds up to baloney.
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But then when I'm in a halfway successful movie, it irritates the hell out of the critics in New York, because they'd like to kill my pictures if they could. So maybe I'm pretty good in the movie. Then they use all these words like I'm 'surprisingly' good, or 'shockingly enough,' I'm good. It's like I crawled out from under a magazine and they're surprised I can act.
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I don't speak emotionally about my pictures. That's for other people to do. I will say that I love my photographs. That's what keeps me going.
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I'll never have enough time to paint all the pictures I'd like to.
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I love all the old pictures - of spanking and Bettie Page and corsets. But you can't do spanking in fashion, so I wanted to do a project where I could really let go and get girls who also love those things.
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I'm pretty solitary when I take pictures. Even when I take pictures of people, I just go about my own way of doing it.
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I suspected Molly wanted the pictures to send to her friends on Twitter and Facebook, the ones that I was not supposed to know about. I didn’t dare ask because we have an unspoken agreement—I don’t question what she does on my computer when I’m out and, in return, she doesn’t murder me in my sleep. Back
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Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty.
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When Molly O'Toole was looking at the colored pictures in Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's big dictionary and just happened to be eating a candy cane at the same time and drooled candy cane juice on the colored pictures of gems and then forgot and shut the book so the pages all stuck together, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle didn't say, "Such a careless little girl can never ever look at the colored pictures in my dictionary again." Nor did she say, "You must never look at books when you are eating." She said, "Let's see, I think we can steam those pages apart, and then we can wipe the stickiness off with a little soap and water, like this-now see, it's just as good as new. There's nothing as cozy as a piece of candy and a book.
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The only thing emanating from my pictures should be emotion.
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All pictures that's painted with sense and with thought / Are painted by madmen as sure as a groat; / For the greater the fool in the pencil more blest, / And when they are drunk they always paint best.
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Wherever I go, I'm watching. Even on vacation, when I'm in an airport or a railroad station, I look around, snap pictures, and find out how people do things.
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Men are more evanescent than pictures, yet one sorrows for lost friends, and pictures are my friends. I have none others. I am never long enough with men to attach myself to them; and whatever feelings of attachment I have are to material things.
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Theories are usually the over-hasty efforts of an impatient understanding that would gladly be rid of phenomena, and so puts in their place pictures, notions, nay, often mere words.
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'Alien?' Oh, yeah. I still get fanmail almost every week, pictures from all over the world on that movie. That's one of the most popular films I've done.
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To me, it’s encounters that matter, pictures are much less important.
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Ann Winder-Boyle’s small-scale encaustic pictures always reward a second look – they have an intriguing edge of darkness about them.
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I like to look at the interface between words and pictures and wonder about which comes first, a sort of chicken-or-egg type of question.
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I watched 'It Happened One Night' and looked at online pictures and really liked Clark Gable's mustache and hair and the tuxedo. I just really liked that look.
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The many-voiced song of the river echoed softly. Siddhartha looked into the river and saw many pictures in the flowing water. The river's voice was sorrowful. It sang with yearning and sadness, flowing towards its goal ... Siddhartha was now listening intently...to this song of a thousand voices ... then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: Om - Perfection ... From that hour Siddhartha ceased to fight against his destiny.
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Back in the day, no one had digital cameras. They took these pictures of me, got them developed, and then mailed them to me.
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A room hung with pictures is a room hung with thoughts.
