Best 2427 quotes in «drama quotes» category

There’s nothing. Nothing to hold on to while the current takes me. Whatever I might have had until today, I’ve lost. I feel my love for her, swelling; bloating into something that’s about to explode, like an abscess that’s been allowed to rot for too long, but the pain drowns it so completely I know I’m never coming back out. This feeling, that you’re choking and that your body is underwater, immersed in the ocean, a dense flood that overpowers your breathing abilities, and your will to survive gets drowned right along with it. And as I’m drowning I see her face and hear her voice—and it doesn’t give me hope, it terrifies me. I’m terrified because I know she’s going to be the death of me. I’m terrified because I know I won’t be able to cope. I’m terrified because the darkness is the only true friend I’ve ever had and if it wants to embrace me I don’t have the power to make it stop.

There were formerly horizons within which people lived and thought and mythologized. There are now no more horizons. And with the dissolution of horizons we have experienced and are experiencing collisions, terrific collisions, not only of peoples but also of their mythologies. It is as when dividing panels are withdrawn from between chambers of very hot and very cold airs: there is a rush of these forces together. And so we are right now in an extremely perilous age of thunder, lightning, and hurricanes all around. I think it is improper to become hysterical about it, projecting hatred and blame. It is an inevitable, altogether natural thing that when energies that have never met before come into collision—each bearing its own pride—there should be turbulence. That is just what we are experiencing; and we are riding it: riding it to a new age, a new birth, a totally new condition of mankind—to which no one anywhere alive today can say that he has the key, the answer, the prophecy, to its dawn. Nor is there anyone to condemn here (”Judge not, that you may not be judged!”). What is occurring is completely natural, as are its pains, confusions, and mistakes.

[The ruling class] sees people in the working class as being almost animals. It sees itself as being synonymous with civilization and its cultivation as coming from its natural abilities and not from its wealth and privileged opportunities. It doesn't see that the way in which it monopolizes these things distorts the culture it derives from them and that this makes its culture irrational and an enemy of civilization.

The same principles that make up a good story also make up a good life.

There's something to say about inspiration - when it comes into your life...the feeling is insatiable.

The television commercial has mounted the most serious assault on capitalist ideology since the publication of Das Kapital. To understand why, we must remind ourselves that capitalism, like science and liberal democracy, was an outgrowth of the Enlightenment. Its principal theorists, even its most prosperous practitioners, believed capitalism to be based on the idea that both buyer and seller are sufficiently mature, well informed and reasonable to engage in transactions of mutual self-interest. If greed was taken to be the fuel of the capitalist engine, the surely rationality was the driver. The theory states, in part, that competition in the marketplace requires that the buyer not only knows what is good for him but also what is good. If the seller produces nothing of value, as determined by a rational marketplace, then he loses out. It is the assumption of rationality among buyers that spurs competitors to become winners, and winners to keep on winning. Where it is assumed that a buyer is unable to make rational decisions, laws are passed to invalidate transactions, as, for example, those which prohibit children from making contracts...Of course, the practice of capitalism has its contradictions...But television commercials make hash of it...By substituting images for claims, the pictorial commercial made emotional appeal, not tests of truth, the basis of consumer decisions. The distance between rationality and advertising is now so wide that it is difficult to remember that there once existed a connection between them. Today, on television commercials, propositions are as scarce as unattractive people. The truth or falsity of an advertiser's claim is simply not an issue. A McDonald's commercial, for example, is not a series of testable, logically ordered assertions. It is a drama--a mythology, if you will--of handsome people selling, buying and eating hamburgers, and being driven to near ecstasy by their good fortune. No claim are made, except those the viewer projects onto or infers from the drama. One can like or dislike a television commercial, of course. But one cannot refute it.

... The use of your gift for good is your responsibility. You must decide for yourself.

The virus was rapidly spreading. It had infected his mind, eating away at everything except thoughts of her.

The second he slipped inside of me, all I'd doubted, questioned, or feared evaporated, leaving me with one single, definite truth--I'd fallen in love with him in an all-consuming blaze that would blind me if I wasn't careful. We fit together like poorly cut puzzle pieces, but when the edges joined and were positioned just right, our scattered images came together to create a solid, deliberate piece of art, completely crystal clear and in focus. I was a goner.

The simplicity of youth is mesmerizing to me. Maybe because I didn't know it long enough." London Drake "They All fall down

The story writes you as much as you write it. And the process of re-writing isn't so much a quest to re-write the story as it is to re-write the writer.

The trade of critic, in literature, music, and the drama, is the most degraded of all trades.

The Writers curse We have to write We have no choice We have stories to TELL

The writing talent of Edinburgh is textured - we have poets, novelists, non-fiction writers, dramatists and more.

The woman with the cat complex is named Mrs. Alice Plesher, but she doesn't reveal her first name to him and Sai only finds out by accident, later. Mrs. Plesher calls the paper and is put through to Sai. He has no idea why although he could guess the new guy gets all of the reporter-on-the-beat drudgery assignments until proven worthy. Alice speaks haltingly as if hardened by age and her voice reveals a rasp. Sai pictures her in a long house dress from the fifties, wide pink and white stripes fading with age---a smock of beige over the dress, a multitude of cats clinging to the fabric like stick-ons.

They always act this way: push those who are falling.

They were being poisoned.

They said her duck recipe and the Chinese music were so dramatic everything else sounded anemic.

Think'st thou heaven is such a glorious thing? I tell thee, 'tis not so fair as thou Or any man that breathes on earth.

...this two-way hatred. I don’t understand it. I wonder how much of it is caused by fear?

They shared a sensation that was as addictive as a needle full of heroin to a street junkie.

those who truly know, knows those who don't, will learn if they ask

This woman is a virus and she’s eating me alive.

This simple theatre production had caused the Great American Ruckus of the century. How would the chaos pan out? Would there be public drama, hair-raising speeches, epic face-offs or brawls? And what of the Patriot Protesters? Would they commit self-immolation, shave their heads or do running cartwheels outside the premises? Would there be attempts at sabotage?

Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown.

Though death might still the show, life would be the most critiqued act of our existence. Own your stage.

Though I don't know this today, I am making a choice. I am choosing not to choose. My mind has gone numb precisely so that I won't understand that somewhere buried deep in this mess there's a right and a wrong. Someone is the villain here. I just have no idea who it is, and I don't want to know - because knowing will mean I will have to choose my mother over my sister, or my sister over my mother. I've already lost so much I can't bring myself to lose any more. For the rest of my life, I will become stupid around this subject. I will shrug my shoulders when people ask me why my sister and mother don't speak. "My sister contested my father's will", I will say, as if this is the end of the story - or the beginning.

To be as vehement as he is is to be almost non-committal.

Today is your big moment. Moments, really. The life you’ve been waiting for is happening all around you. The scene unfolding right outside your window is worth more than the most beautiful painting, and the crackers and peanut butter that you’re having for lunch on the coffee table are as profound, in their own way, as the Last Supper. This is it. This is life in all its glory, swirling and unfolding around us, disguised as pedantic, pedestrian non-events. But pull of the mask and you will find your life, waiting to be made, chosen, woven, crafted. Your life, right now, today, is exploding with energy and power and detail and dimension, better than the best movie you have ever seen. You and your family and your friends and your house and your dinner table and your garage have all the makings of a life of epic proportions, a story for the ages. Because they all are. Every life is. You have stories worth telling, memories worth remembering, dreams worth working toward, a body worth feeding, a soul worth tending, and beyond that, the God of the universe dwells within you, the true culmination of super and natural. You are more than dust and bones. You are spirit and power and image of God. And you have been given Today.

Today I’m going to pretend I’m dead. I wonder if anyone will notice." - excerpt from: freefalling

To deprive the derelicts of hope is right, and to sustain them in their illusory "pipe dreams" is right also.

Tragedy's language stresses that whatever is within us is obscure, many faceted, impossible to see. Performance gave this question of what is within a physical force. The spectators were far away from the performers, on that hill above the theatre. At the centre of their vision was a small hut, into which they could not see. The physical action presented to their attention was violent but mostly unseen. They inferred it, as they inferred inner movement, from words spoken by figures whose entrances and exits into and out of the visible space patterned the play. They saw its results when that facade opened to reveal a dead body. This genre, with its dialectics of seen and unseen, inside and outside, exit and entrance, was a simultaneously internal and external, intellectual and somatic expression of contemporary questions about the inward sources of harm, knowledge, power, and darkness.

TV is a pornographic cacophony of violence, death obsession, screams, gunfire and drama. You think it's fine because you are damaged.

Time shell be the limit of my suffering.

Unlike in the movies, the weather seemed indifferent to his personal predicament and refused dramatic contribution. It was a rather pleasant day, in fact.

... wanting nothing more than for it to unravel, unbind.

Twenty years earlier, in a life [Kirsten] mostly couldn’t remember, she had had a small nonspeaking role in a short-lived Toronto production of King Lear. Now she walked in sandals whose soles had been cut from an automobile tire, three knives in her belt.

Waving from side to side in the breeze, her long golden hair shimmered as she handed Thomas a bottle of beer. “When are you coming home to me?” She said eloquently.

We all do stuff we think is right. Irrespective rules, drama or money.

We all got pushed into doing some bad stuff. And some people would blame all of that stuff on their circumstances. Maybe most people do. They come from shit and then do some shit. But you and I know better than that. It's not right. The stuff that's done to us is one thing. But the stuff we do because of it is a different story. There are very few things that are really beyond a person's control in life." -Caesar

We all fight for money, some for power, but most of all for love. But me, I fight to become a champion.

We all know that 97% of the money in the world doesn't exist and that's thanks to Fractional Reserve Banking, or should I say fictional reserve banking." He grinned at his own joke, his smile partly hidden by his hair, "Money is no longer attached to the Gold Standard, therefore, it isn't based on anything. So when it says, 'I promise to pay the bearer on demand ten pounds,' I have to ask, ten pounds of what?" Silence. "The world is owned by the rich shareholder, the rich superstar, the rich industrialist, the rich aristocracy." He was now marching around the stage, "It doesn't matter who or what they are, if they're rich then they own a part of the world, but they only own it because they've got lots of money. Which means they own part of the 97% of the world’s fictional money, the pretend money that only exists on a computer." He stopped abruptly and stared out at the audience, "Which means that if they cashed in their fictional nonexistent money they'd get something like this ten pound note offering to pay the bearer the sum of ten pounds of nothing." He held the note aloft, "Which means the rich have managed to buy the entire world with paper nothing that has a value of nothing and we've let them do it.

We all say and do things we regret, but it’s never to late to change, apologize and become a better person

We are only victims if we allow ourselves to be.

We become increasingly aware that the human dream, the human drama, with all its questionable, damaging, and often malevolent intention is not real life at all.

We have the ability to rise up and take control of our lives, if only we stop to pay attention to the warning signs that we so often find ourselves excusing and ignoring.

We always humble ourselves before bastards - it has already become a tradition.

Wes sat in a cracked vinyl booth picking at his fries and listening to Amanda go on and on about the dress she'd found. '...and it has these little lavender bows. Oh, Wes, I can't wait 'til you see it.' She gesticulated wildly, and her only saving grace right now was her amazing rack that swayed and bounced with each movement. Sometimes he swore that was the only reason he ever looked crosswise at Amanda Price. That, and her daddy's checkbook. 'And I found these shoes--" 'Uh huh, that's nice,' he cut her off and slid free from the booth. He held out his hand. 'Got the card?' He waved the bill in the air at her questioning gaze. Was she a little cross-eyed, maybe? He thought so.

Well, it's true for every elder sibling, We have this supremely potent weapon "parents " on our side in such matters. In fact, such are the times when our maturity works wonders in hitching parents to our side over these younger siblings.

We would send them all to hell! And hell they would go!