I love Elektra. I really have a special place in my heart for her. It was very enjoyable for me to discover her and to adapt her for this project and bring myself to this character. So I have a special spot for her.
When they told me I had to have a heart operation, my main memory is standing in my kitchen and thinking what I would really miss was my little tea towel. Not for one minute did I think, 'Oh, I'm going to really miss performing.' The things you're going to miss are your wife, your egg cup, your seat that you sit in to watch TV.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
We make a mistake forsaking England and moving out into the periphery of life. After all, Taormina, Ceylon, Africa, America -- as far as we go, they are only the negation of what we ourselves stand for and are: and we're rather like Jonahs running away from the place we belong.
Our first mistake is the belief that the circumstance gives the joy which we give to the circumstance.
Never go back to a place where you have been happy. Until you do it remains alive for you. If you go back it will be destroyed.
Love, whether sexual, parental, or fraternal, is essentially sacrificial, and prompts a man to give his life for his friends.
Ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow. Tyrion smiled. Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I'd feel sad about it. I will take that as high praise.
He may be out of my life physically, but he’ll always be a part of me. I can’t let him go even if I tried. Alex took a piece of my heart, but that doesn’t mean my life has to be on hold. I can’t keep running after ghosts.
For me, clothing is nothing without the story behind it. Everything I own evokes some kind of memory.
A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.
A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.
While many of us feel a strong emotional attachment to our homeland, we should not allow emotions to deter us from speaking of things the way they really are. It should be remembered that this very surrender to emotion has led to insane and counterproductive atrocities on the scale of the Ankara and Istanbul suicide assaults, as well as the Orly bombing and the Lisbon disaster. By surrendering to emotions we enable the A.R.F. and slogans like "Hagop Hagopian" to lead thousands of well-intentioned patriots down a path which does not lead to Armenia, and to sacrifice the lives of young fighters in campaigns which directly contradict the interests of the Armenian people. If we are to achieve even the minimum requirements for Armenian national self-determination, we must approach problems in a serious and sober manner.
The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.
One loves ultimately one's desires, not the thing desired.
A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her.
It moves one's heart to think: Nine months before I was born there was a woman who loved me deeply. She did not know what I was going to be like, but she loved me because she carried me in her womb.
I have given a name to my pain, and call it "dog".
I have loved you woman as surely as I have named you rust and sand and nylon.
I think if they wanted to get me to leave 'Children in Need,' they'd have to drag me off screaming. It's one thing that's so close to my heart, and I feel passionately about it. I gave up my radio show, with regret, but knowing I'd done it for a long time, the same with Eurovision. But 'Children in Need' is different.
My first car was a 1976 Toyota Corolla Liftback in red, like the one in 'The Blues Brothers.' I painted a Union Jack on the roof. I was absolutely in love with it until I destroyed it, which broke my heart!
But to fall in love does not mean to love. One can fall in love and still hate.
Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the one thing hated.
A sick child is always the mother's property; her own feelings generally make it so.
Three months before he died, I began to steal things from my father's house. I wandered around barefoot and slipped objects into my pockets. I took blush, toothpaste, two chipped finger bowls in celadon blue, a bottle of nail polish, a pair of worn patent-leather ballet slippers, and four faded white pillowcases the color of old teeth.
