Random funny quotes
Hypocrisy is the homage which vice pays to virtue.
You wouldn't ask Rodin to make an ugly sculpture, or me to make a film with an ugly woman.
My uncle was born at the end of the Edo era and was a great authority on the various bizarre and gruesome legends that were so popular in those days: tales of haunted houses with rooms no one dared enter; tales of the souls of scorned women, still living, tormenting an unfaithful lover; tales of ghosts unable to relinquish an attachment to their former lives... Yet he took great pains to deny there was any truth to these legends, repeating the lesson of his samurai education that "a true warrior does not believe in ghosts."
Ugliness is in a way superior to beauty because it lasts.
Lines consist of an infinite number of points; planes an infinite number of lines; volumes an infinite number of planes, hypervolumes an infinite number of volumes... No, this, this more geometrico, is definitely not the best way to begin my tale. Affirming a fantastic tale's truth is now a story-telling convention; mine, though, is true.
Somewhere in La Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing. An occasional stew, beef more than lamb, hash most nights, eggs and abstinence on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, sometimes squab as a treat on Sundays – these consumed three-fourths of his income.
Music, When Soft Voices Die
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.
I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.
I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
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We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already. We have the power to imagine better.
Plants of great vigor will almost always struggle into blossom, despite impediments. But there should be encouragement, and a free genial atmosphere for those of more timid sort, fair play for each in its own kind.