Best 2427 quotes in «drama quotes» category

Luis found all this very exciting. He had enthusiasm for myths, legends, bad omens, bad weather, supernatural happenings and inexplicable events. His passion for superstitions and doomsaying drove his other family members crazy. He didn’t often meet curious strangers with whom he could share his fantastic tales.

Magistrate: May I die a thousand deaths ere I obey one who wears a veil! Lysistrata: If that's all that troubles you, here take my veil, wrap it round your head, and hold your tounge. Then take this basket; put on a girdle, card wool, munch beans. The War shall be women's business.

Magistrate: What do you propose to do then, pray? Lysistrata: You ask me that! Why, we propose to administer the treasury ourselves Magistrate: You do? Lysistrata: What is there in that a surprise to you? Do we not administer the budget of household expenses? Magistrate: But that is not the same thing. Lysistrata: How so – not the same thing? Magistrate: It is the treasury supplies the expenses of the War. Lysistrata: That's our first principle – no War!

Magic is what you make it.

Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to look her family in the face next morning, had she not risen from her bed in more need of repose than when she lay down in it.

Maybe I shouldn't trust him after all, just like he doesn't seem to trust me fully. Shit, is it always so hard to get close to someone?

Maybe that's what writers do- Maybe they exaggerate pain just so that you feel okay about what you're feeling.

Maybe the consequences of someone’s unreason can be remedied only with a new unreason?

May the odds be ever in your favor ~ Effie Trinket

Men jeg drister mig, uden Vanitet, at sige, at vore Nordiske Tilskuere, helst af Middelstand, ere langt beqvem-mere Dommere herudi, end de Parisiske: Thi hvis de første ikke have saa fiin Smag som de sidste, saa have de den dog ikke saa selsom og fordærved.

Men, mine damer og herrer, De må ikke derfor tro at jeg agter definitivt at nedlægge min teaterpen. Nej, den agter jeg ty tilbage til og holde fast til det sidste. Jeg har nemlig endnu diverse galskaber på lager.

Met mijn eerste scheikundedoos blies ik mijn hond op, met de tweede doos mijn kamer, met de derde ons huis.

Music is the 'pure' art par excellence. It says nothing and has nothing to say. Never really having an expressive function, it is opposed to drama, which even in its most refined forms still bears a social message and can only be 'put over' on the basis of an immediate and profound affinity with the values and expectations of its audience. The theatre divides its public and divides itself. The Parisian opposition between right-bank and left-bank theatr, bourgeois theatre and avant-garde theatre, is inextricably aesthetic and political.

Misery loves good company, so if you are surrounded with drama, gossip and fools you may want to consider that you are presently at risk of becoming one of them.

Mostly because Lydia said after a long silence, "Holy shit. We are living in a Nicholas Sparks novel." "Exactly," she said from between her knees. "And I'm so not okay with that.

My books don’t narrate about delusions that people with unusual or forbidding looks should be treated as if they are not human beings; that life finds its sense only in the midst of great sufferings and tribulations; that is difficult to smile to people who hate or despise you; that people’s desires are primitive and life is complicated; that writing a book is equal to lounging; that being a human is rather easy but seems to be quite superfluous to an average person. Perhaps my books are about worthwhile things that don’t seem to exist but is encountered every day.

My definition of an intellectual is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture without thinking of the Lone Ranger" - Billy Connolly

My eyes refuse to let him leave, but he stands still holding my hand, lingering for as long as possible.

My eyes filled with tears. Damn him for reeling me in and throwing me back like this. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Just go. You’ve humiliated me enough.” “You don’t know—” “Then tell me!” I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. “Fu**ing tell me or don’t, but stop playing these games.

My great-great grandfather and I were the best of friends, although we never met

My heart is pounding so crazy fast, I can barely breathe. I feel faint. And Just as I think he’s going for my lips. I brace myself for a hot, wet, romantic kiss. He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. “Ready to go?” he asks.

Naturalists tell of a noble race of horses that instinctively open a vein with their teeth, when heated and exhausted by a long course, in order to breathe more freely. I am often tempted to open a vein, to procure for myself everlasting liberty. Cento volte ho impugnato una lama per conficcarmela nel cuore. Si dice di una nobile razza i cavalli,che quando si sentono accaldati e affaticati, si aprono istintivamente una vena, per respirare più liberamente. Spesso anche io vorrei aprirmi una vena che mi desse libertà eterna.

Não vou ficar para aqui a desejar uma vida perfeita. As coisas que nos derrubam na vida são testes, e esses testes obrigam-nos a escolher entre desistir, ficar caídos no chão ou sacudir a poeira e levantarmo-nos ainda mais fortes e firmes. Eu escolho levantar-me mais forte e firme. Provavelmente vou cair mais algumas vezes antes de a vida se cansar de mim, mas garanto que nunca vou ficar estendida no chão.

Never let the story beat you home.

Never confuse lust for anything other than what it is. There isn't a man alive that wouldn't gladly take what you are so willing to offer." "Any but you, apparently." -Eric to Camile, Pawn of Innocence

Never give up no matter how tough the road seems,keep going and visualize yourself in the realm of what you are going to achieve.

Next to God, Family is the best thing.

Never worry what others say when you walk away from all the drama. Be grateful you had the strength and courage to stay out of the conflict and be at peace with your choices.

No actor is a success unless he feels inside himself, as long as he lives, that he is good.

No drama, we had agreed. No broken hearts. No crying in our cars. No radio silence where once we had exchanged hilarious daily text messages.

No contesten alaridos del monte porque pueden ser del Enrabiado.

No puedes enfadarte con un final real. Algunos de ellos son feos, son los falsos felices para siempre los que deberían enojarte.

No one needs to look beyond their walls to find monsters.

No, she's been killing me with kindness." She pointed her finger in his face. "There's a difference, and if you didn't have her on a pedestal, you could tell the difference.

Not to be too dramatic about it, that night I slept the sleep of the damned. I dreamt of turrets and craggy ledges where the windswept rain blew in from the ocean with the odor of violets. A pale woman in Elizabethan dress stood beside my bed and whispered in my ear that the bells would ring. An old salt in an oilcloth jacket sat atop a piling, mending nets with an awl, while far out at sea a tine aeroplane winged its way towards the setting sun.

Not only these were new kinds of stories, they were being told with a new kind of formal structure. [...] The result was a storytelling architecture you could picture as a colonnade - each episode a brick with its own solid, satisfying shape, but also part of a season-long arc that, in turn, would stand linked to other seasons to form a coherent, freestanding work of art. [...] The new structure allowed huge creative freedom: to develop characters over long stretches of time, to tell stories over the course of fifty hours or more, the equivalent of countless movies.

Oliver knocked on the door, trying to keep his fear in check. Dominic didn't answer. Oliver looked around the porch for a hidden key, frantically searching under the welcome mat, but to no avail.

Oh, this tormenting concern that your neighbor’s life might be better than yours! And how great it feels when you realize that the truth is exactly the opposite; and we’re not so different after all. Nоthing brings true neighbors together like a little friendly competition.

Oh, where is it, where did my past go, when I was young, happy and intelligent, when my dreams and thoughts had some grace, and the present and future were lit up with hope? Why is it, that when we've just started to live, we grow dull, gray, uninteresting, lazy, useless, with flattened-out souls?

Once the egoism has gone (stopped), all the worldly ‘matter’ of the body-complex [pudgal] are renounced! Where there is egoism, there is my-ness and where there is my-ness, there is a hidden egoism. When ‘Knowledge of the Self’ is attained, egoism and my-ness goes away. Only the dramatic (discharge) ‘egoism’ and ‘my-ness’ will remain.

Once upon a time there was a child who had a golden brain. His parents only discovered this by chance when he injured his head and gold instead of blood flowed out. They then began to look after him carefully and would not let him play with other children for fear of being robbed. When the boy was grown up and wanted to go out into the world, his mother said: “We have done so much for you,we ought to be able to share your wealth.” Then her son took a large piece of gold out of his brain and gave it to his mother. He lived in great style with a friend who, however, robbed him one night and ran away. After that the man resolved to guard his secret and to go out to work, because his reserves were visibly dwindling. One day he fell in love with a beautiful girl who loved him too, but no more than the beautiful clothes he gave her so lavishly. He married her and was very happy, but after two years she died and he spent the rest of his wealth on her funeral, which had to be splendid. Once, as he was creeping through the streets,weak,poor, and unhappy, he saw a beautiful little pair of boots that would have been perfect for his wife. He forgot that she was dead- perhaps because his emptied brain no longer worked- and entered the shop to buy the boots. But in that very moment he fell, and the shopkeeper saw a dead man lying on the ground. This story sounds as though it were invented, but it is true from beginning to end. There are people who have to pay for the smallest things in life with their very substance and their spinal cord. That is a constantly recurring pain, and then when they are tired of suffering… Does not mother love belong to the ‘smallest’, but also indispensable, things in life, for which many people paradoxically have to pay by giving up their living selves?

One of the earliest and most vivid memories of Robin’s childhood was of the day that the family dog had been put down. She herself had been too young to understand what her father was saying; she took the continuing existence of Bruno, her oldest brother’s beloved Labrador, for granted. Confused by her parents’ solemnity, she had turned to Stephen for a clue as to how to react, and all security had crumbled, for she had seen, for the first time in her short life, happiness and comfort drain out of his small and merry face, and his lips whiten as his mouth fell open. She had heard oblivion howling in the silence that preceded his awful scream of anguish, and then she had cried, inconsolably, not for Bruno, but for the terrifying grief of her brother.

O que a gente geralmente faz é usar todas as nossas emoções para exagerar todas as situações que aparecem na nossa frente. Quando bota um relacionamento no meio, o troço consegue piorar. Mas existe uma saída secreta, muitas vezes ignorada, que poucos conhecem e que, se não for usada com sabedoria, pode acabar em desgraça: é preciso não dar corda. Tudo que nosso drama emocional precisa é não ser incentivado de forma alguma. É tão simples, mas tão, tão simples, que a gente custa a acreditar.

Organizing your emotions reclaims your power over any given drama. Nothing is stronger than your own mind.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air      Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;      Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter      When he appear'd to hapless Semele;      More lovely than the monarch of the sky      In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms Excerpt From: Christopher Marlowe. “The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus

Parenthood doesn’t improve one’s character, it exposes it.

Our brains are constantly, exhaustively working overtime to deliver the illusion that we’re in control, but we’re not. The brain builds a narrative to steady us from moment to moment, but it’s ultimately an illusion. There is no me, there is no you, and there is certainly no self; we are divided and discontinuous and constantly being duped.

Over the years Breece had lectured that truth was liquid. That it evaporated in the heat of passion, froze in the cold of fear, and bent itself around virginous, unpurposeful fibs. It could churn and pull you under, drown you in itself, or let you ride upon it like a surf. But truth was always relfective. It showed blackheads and blemishes, fat rolls and sags, scabs and scars. Truth was fearful, angry and dangerous, and that was why so many people did their utmost to avoid it.

Pay attention... When a person is gossiping, you are learning more about them and their character than anything they are gossiping about.

Penso agli uri e agli angeli, al segreto dei pigmenti duraturi, ai sonetti profetici, al rifugio dell'arte. E questa è la sola immortalità che tu e io possiamo condividere, mia Lolita.