Best 2427 quotes in «drama quotes» category

CARDINAL WOLSEY So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again

Chorus of old men: How true the saying: 'Tis impossible to live with the baggages, impossible to live without 'em.

CONGRATULATIONS DL Havlin! Your entry, "There are No Lights in Naples", an unpublished short fiction - flash fiction genre category, is a finalist for the 2016 Royal Palm Literary Awards competition!

Crazy got nothin on us" Neesa

Creatures, Malorie thinks. What a cheap word.

Crimson covered Her chest, Her throat spread wide like a mouth, and he clutched the wound. “She’s bleeding!

Crying was something it had only seen humans do in dramas, and in dramas they did it much more prettily, at dramatic moments, with swelling music in the background. Instead, the girl was getting mucus on her sleeve, and Hemiola didn’t understand the context, and it doubted she would appreciate it providing swelling music on her behalf.

Culture itself views dramas as rare. We only see it as insane when it becomes foolish.

Cutting out drama... Healthy mind and body choices... Intent followed by action... Keeping real friends and letting go of the pretends... Livin' clean for Twenty Seventeen!

Damn it! Are you so stupid you don't know what I'm going to do to you?" Her eyes bore into his without flinching. "Are you so stupid you haven't figured out yet that it doesn't matter?

DAN What do you want? ALICE To be loved. DAN That simple? ALICE It's a big want.

Das Geheimnis der Liebe ist größer als das Geheimnis des Todes.

Does it go away?" she asks. "Missing each other?" I think about how much I missed Maman. I still do, though it isn´t as acute as it once was. "A little bit," I whisper. "Enough so that life continues. In a year you won´t even think about me. " She turns around in my arms and looks up at me, tugging at a strand of my hair. "don´t say stupid things, Sahar. You´re smarter than that.

Did you ever think much about jobs? I mean, some of the jobs people land in? You see a guy giving haircuts to dogs, or maybe going along the curb with a shovel, scooping up horse manure. And you think, now why is the silly bastard doing that? He looks fairly bright, about as bright as anyone else. Why the hell does he do that for living? You kind grin and look down your nose at him. You think he’s nuts, know what I mean, or he doesn’t have any ambition. And then you take a good look at yourself, and you stop wondering about the other guy… You’ve got all your hands and feet. Your health is okay, and you make a nice appearance, and ambition-man! You’ve got it. You’re young, I guess: you’d call thirty young, and you’re strong. You don’t have much education, but you’ve got more than plenty of other people who go to the top. And yet with all that, with all you’ve had to do with this is as far you’ve got And something tellys you, you’re not going much farther if any. And there is nothing to be done about it now, of course, but you can’t stop hoping. You can’t stop wondering… …Maybe you had too much ambition. Maybe that was the trouble. You couldn’t see yourself spending forty years moving from office boy to president. So you signed on with a circulation crew; you worked the magazines from one coast to another. And then you ran across a little brush deal-it sounded nice, anyway. And you worked that until you found something better, something that looked better. And you moved from that something to another something. Coffee-and-tea premiums, dinnerware, penny-a-day insurance, photo coupons, cemetery lots, hosiery, extract, and God knows what all. You begged for the charities, You bought the old gold. You went back to the magazines and the brushes and the coffee and tea. You made good money, a couple of hundred a week sometimes. But when you averaged it up, the good weeks with the bad, it wasn’t so good. Fifty or sixty a week, maybe seventy. More than you could make, probably, behind agas pump or a soda fountain. But you had to knock yourself out to do it, and you were standing stil. You were still there at the starting place. And you weren’t a kid any more. So you come to this town, and you see this ad. Man for outside sales and collections. Good deal for hard worker. And you think maybe this is it. This sounds like a right town. So you take the job, and you settle down in the town. And, of course, neither one of ‘em is right, they’re just like all the others. The job stinks. The town stinks. You stink. And there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. All you can do is go on like this other guys go on. The guy giving haircuts to dogs, and the guy sweeping up horse manute Hating it. Hating yourself. And hoping.

Dolorosas son las despedidas y tal vez no está mal que así sean, porque toda despedida tiene algún condimento de olvido, y ya se sabe que el tal olvido es la peor de las formas de la muerte...

Definitivamente no hay encuentro sexual menos satisfactorio que aquel que se da escudado bajo el pretexto de la venganza.

Don't hate the game, hate the player... the player should have known better than to play the game in the first place.

Don't be fooled, Clara. No one's new and shiny. Not really.

Don’t feed the drama monster. It’s insatiable and has no friends.

Don't hang out with people who are: Ungrateful Unhelpful Unruly Unkindly Unloving Unambitious Unmotivated or make you feel... Uncomfortable

Doubtless some ancient Greek has observed that behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous lips more or less under anxious control.

Do you ever feel as if everything surrounding you is in slow motion, moving through tar? There you are - and there's the world. You're outside staring in the window, observing reality happen, but you don't exist in it. You just watch, and watch. That's how I feel, like the dead butterfly staring back at you through the glass.

Drama entered my home last week, but I ushered it to the door and tossed it to the curb.

Do you know who W.H. Auden was, Mr. Iscariot? W.H. Auden was a poet who once said, “God may reduce you on Judgement Day to tears of shame reciting by heart the poems you would have written had your life been good”…She was my poem, Mr. Iscariot. Her and the kids. But mostly her. You cashed in for silver, Mr. Iscariot. But me? Me…I threw away gold. That’s a fact. That’s a natural fact.

Drama is real life – with the dull parts left out.” Alfred Hitchcock

Dramat jest wtedy, kiedy możesz podjąć jakąś decyzję, kiedy coś zależy od ciebie, a tam wszystko było z góry przesądzone. Teraz, w szpitalu, chodzi o życie — i za każdym razem muszę podejmować decyzję. Teraz się denerwuję znacznie bardziej.

Drama of life may get gripping, intense or interesting but eventually it's still a drama.

Dreams are like drama, they unfold the story on the stage.

Elevation Book Publishing drives each book to their highest peak and afford authors the opportunity to rise to their full potential. We create thriving partnerships.

Emotions tend to entwine Earthlings together.

Even the world’s greatest actor cannot fake an erection.

Etwas in ihm wehrte sich entschieden dagegen, dass ein Mensch wie Nathanyel auch nur ansatzweise dazu fähig war, ihm gegenüber entsprechende Gefühle empfinden zu können. Stattdessen hatte ihn Nathanyel monatelang tyrannisiert und wie es Riley dabei ging, war ihm herzlich egal gewesen. Warum sollte da jetzt auf einmal mehr sein?

Emotions don’t interfere in my acting, nor in my life.

-Esé es el drama. No hay más que ellos. No sé si te acuerdas del principio. Fue hace tan poco, pero parece tan lejano...cuando no importaban los jefes. Cuando esta se hacía no para elevar a un hombre, sino a todos

Estragon: You see, you feel worse when I'm with you. I feel better alone, too. Vladmir: Then why do you always come crawling back? Estragon: I don't know.

Everybody acts out a myth, but very few people know what their myth is. And you should know what your myth is because it might be a tragedy and maybe you dont want it to be.

Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.

Every culture that has lost myth has lost, by the same token, its natural healthy creativity. Only a horizon ringed about with myths can unify a culture. The forces of imagination and the Apollonian dream are saved only by myth from indiscriminate rambling. The images of myth must be the daemonic guardians, ubiquitous but unnoticed, presiding over the growth of the child's mind and interpreting to the mature man his life and struggles.

Everyone has their secrets, and there are shadows following us all.

Every one of us has been called to be an actor in the drama of life and everyone has a role to play as well.

Everyone have got a potential, who is living on Earth. But most people get suppressed!

Everything had changed, and maybe she couldn’t keep up with it, but she still was good at making people regret they had ever crossed her way.

For 1,300 days of Sarajevo's drama, important people in the world who were supposed to act kept their eyes closed, ... But not you. You were not silent. Your voice was clear.

False assurances were certainly more harmful than none at all.

Fantasy and drama appeal to us. They are socially acceptable and make you feel good about yourself. Moreover, you get rewarded for being cleverly ignorant.

For eight years I dreamed of fire. Trees ignited as I passed them; oceans burned. The sugary smoke settled in my hair as I slept, the scent like a cloud left on my pillow as I rose. Even so, the moment my mattress started to burn, I bolted awake. The sharp, chemical smell was nothing like the hazy syrup of my dreams; the two were as different as Carolina and Indian jasmine, separation and attachment. They could not be confused. Standing in the middle of the room, I located the source of the fire. A neat row of wooden matches lined the foot of the bed. They ignited, one after the next, a glowing picket fence across the piped edging. Watching them light, I felt a terror unequal to the size of the flickering flames, and for a paralyzing moment I was ten years old again, desperate and hopeful in a way I had never been before and never would be again. But the bare synthetic mattress did not ignite like the thistle had in late October. It smoldered, and then the fire went out. It was my eighteenth birthday.

For me, writing isn't about money and fame. It's about passion, an art form that I want to share with the world, expand the horizons to new worlds, new experiences, and new adventures.

For I never care to do a thing in a quiet way; it's got to be theatrical or I don't take any interest in it.

For også hun hadde hat sin historie, sin lille uregelmæssighet i sit liv (...)Siden sit ulykkelige forhold til en ung fremmed, en ren æventyrer ved navn Johan Nagel, en uanselig dværg, som hadde dukket op på hendes vei ifjor og gjort hende ganske forvirret, hadde fru Dagny hat sine dulgte sorger å trækkes med. Forholdet var ikke endt med at en hat sænkedes dypt og en pyntelig farvel hadde lydt, nei den vilde man var gåt på hodet i havet og hadde gjort ende på sig uten å si et ord.

For my death, ye waited long, Thy minds are worth reviling, With hearts brimful of woeful wrong, A treasure thou art desiring. Inherit now all I give to you, A word of admonition. The pure in heart will gain the prize, This is my decision. So if thine eyes are open, Thin ears quick to hear, You're soon to be awoken, The path, though hidden shall shine clear.