Best 255 quotes in «real life quotes» category

When I emerge from filming I feel slightly out of synch with real life, but it's also a relief.

Unfortunately, real life doesn't have a remote control.

You know, real life doesn't just suddenly resolve itself. You have to keep working at it.

When you make movies based on real life, you try to exaggerate it.

A hundred years ago, this City[...]'s energy production, its food and fuel, came from all over the world, often traveling thousands of miles. People used energy just to ship more energy to the places that needed it. When you’re high on fossil fuel fumes, I guess almost anything can make sense.

Ah youth, youth! That's what happens when you go steeping your soul into Shakespeare

A lot of churches and church people give God a bad name. There's a scripture in the Bible that says the traditions of men make the word of God of none effect. That's so true. All our religious rituals dilute the reality of who God is and make a lot of people not want to have anything to do with Him. I had to learn to reject 'Churchianity' and not Christianity.

As often happens between people who have chosen different ways, each of them, while rationally justifying the other's activity, despised it in his heart. To each of them it seemed that the life he led was the only real life, and the one his friend led was a mere illusion.

You have to experience real life before you can understand what it means to really worship. That's it.

And naturally, everything they tell about in books can happen in real life, but not in the same way. It is to this way of happening that I clung so tightly.

And when had a critical eye ever helped me, really? Nobody likes the girl who points out all the inherent sexism on The Bachelor. But people are charmed byt the girl kvelling about nail art, boba tea, and the homeopathic benefits of ayahuasca.

Anyone who knows more than me in a certain area is an expert compared to me.

A real definition of life lies in our daily thoughts and the steps we take to or away from what is distinctive and noble.

[...] as Kurt Vonnegut pointed out [...] the literary novel has become extraordinarily privatistic of late. It's as if the big issues (Does God exist? from whence springs decency? what sort of species is Homo Sapiens?) were either settled or not worth discusssing, and serious writers should therefore confine themselves to their various ethnic heritages and interpersonal relationships.

A small event as tiny as a drop of a pin can change the direction of your entire life

A deus ex machina will never appear in real life so you best make other arrangements.

A vida real não nos concede muitas possibilidades mais do que úteis que as pessoas podem ter na ficção.

Being a writer is 1% inspiration, 50% perspiration and 49% explaining you're not a millionaire like J.K.Rowling.

But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Ernest? GWENDOLEN: But your name is Ernest. JACK: Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then? GWENDOLEN (glibly): Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.

Being poor, living in poverty, seemed a lot like probation - the crime being a lack of means to survive.

By their actions, they will show you who they are.

Child, use your brain. Think on your feet. Being polite and reserved is how we were raised, but we learned the hard way that the rest of the world isn't that way. I've perceived from conversation that you comprehend such things, like that swordplay with whatsit... that Titmouse, or whatever his name was. In other words, child, propriety has its place, but don't let your guard down. In real life, you never know who the plagers of Intrigue really are, or what they stand for.

Dance is the art closest to nature, to real life.

David started to sense acute paranoia, it was tangible, seeping from their pores. They felt themselves isolated and vulnerable, they couldn’t be trusted to be anything like rational. They hadn’t been at the meeting on Ames yacht, David told himself. They hadn’t seen how everything had hung in the balance, the whole plan. They had made the same mistake as most conspiracy theorists, the dispossessed and uninitiated, who concoct their viewpoints from the outside, with limited data – they had assumed everything was under control and running like clockwork.

Democracy is an excellent way of ensuring that nothing much gets done. There are always interests that might get trampled upon [and no elected politician would wish to make permanent enemies by trampling upon others' interests].

Det var tomt i kiosken. Kan en disk satt en tjukk olding av en dame. Far hadde gitt meg en femtilapp. Feriepenger kalte han det. Det blir ikke mye ferie for femti kroner - Dronningen av Arne Berggren

Do not avoid the stairs because they are really good exercises for the real life!

C'est un vieil homme auquel on ne peut plus donner d'âge, sec, boucané, fripé comme des pommes reinettes oubliées sur les planches d'un fruitier, mais qui garde encore, sous leur peau ridée, une chair ferme et saine.

Don't cross the boundaries.

Don’t complain against life, it may hear you and double your suffering

Don't separate 'real' life from 'creative' life.

Do you know why we show respect to life when it shows none to us? Family is the answer

Dream are different than real life but important too.

Drift me away along with the dust traveling to infinity. To another world where it feels more at home. To another world where I don’t feel alone. Trapped in the angst of my soul. Not being embraced as a whole. A state of nothingness creeps upon me. Disappearing in the darkness of the shadows. How it has clocked my life. Because that is the only place where I find peace. I call it nyctophilia. And what am I when the day turns into the night, listening to the nocturnal and the howling wind? My soul leaving my body, To be at rest. Tears strain down my cheeks, Enough for my lungs to fight for air in the peaks. The atmosphere seems to be held in place by a certain silence, waiting for a sign to move. Even the earth forgot its behoove. Taken over by this silence that I yet do not understand myself. It seems that things don’t have a meaning, At least not anymore. The demons and darkness have taken over. Making me believe that it knows better. These demons can’t be seen, But they’re far from imaginary. They live inside my mind. Their evilness prevails, About to end the fight. Then I stop and think: This is a melancholy I’ll fight one more night.

Don't look for meaning in life. It was meant to be lived not understood

But by the time you’ve worked long enough, hard enough, Real Life (which insists on being capitalized as if it were a personage with a proper name and a right to barge into this rental unit called your life) begins to reveal itself as something other than effort, other than accomplishment. Real Life wishes to be left to its own purposeless devices.

During certain periods of our lives, we may listen to a particular song that touches our hearts so much that we end up repeating the song for the umpteenth time. My question is, how would you know the next song will also touch your heart if you don't allow the playlist to flow? This happens to us in real life; sometimes we get too comfortable with one thing such that we don't allow for other experiences and opportunities.

Él no soportaba la verdadera simplicidad y yo no soportaba la complejidad falsa

Emma, okay, enough with the singing. Mommy's getting a three-pill headache.

Even I don’t know myself... In fact, I don’t know if I really have a self at all, as I’m constantly playing different roles and pretending – not so much on stage as in real life...

Every agent has a Sig Weiss—as a rosy dream. You sit there day after day paddling through oceans of slush, hoping one day to run across a manuscript that means something—sincerity, integrity, high word rates—things like that. You try to understand what editors want in spite of what they say they want, and then you try to tell it to writers who never listen unless they’re talking. You lend them money and psychoanalyze them and agree with them when they lie to themselves. When they write stories that don’t make it, it’s your fault. When they write stories that do make it, they did it by themselves. And when they hit the big time, they get themselves another agent. In the meantime, nobody likes you.

Everyone has the right to doubt everything as often as he pleases and the duty to do it at least once. No way of looking at things is too sacred to be reconsidered. No way of doing things is beyond improvement.

Everything was real, not perfect. And yet that's what had made it so perfect.

Family is the only why of life

First blame yourself for self let downs. People always want to blame others for their own let downs in life. When you recognize self let downs then you will draw the right people to keep you lifted up. This is not a pitty potty party. But Real talk. Real life. Speak truth to self first and all other things you seek you will find or it will find you to accept or deny. NOW THATS 100

First partakers of love are always enveloped with the real intention

For every moment I smile, I've braved a thousand frowns.

For our kind, there's always the burning to be more. (...) that is why true human beings feel more pain. Because we are more, but it's never quite enough - never.

Fred!" the nurse said, though they had never met. "How are we today?" Reading the nurse's name tag, Mr. Bennet replied with fake enthusiasm, "Bernard! We're mourning the death of manners and the rise of overly familiar discourse. How are you?

From books, I winnowed the glue that held together my psyche as it struggled to stay whole. It was from stories and myths that I learned to dream, to imagine a different life, to realize potentials and probabilities other than those of the painful, poverty-mired existence I found myself in as a child. With a book I could hide in a corner, safe from the heavy hand and belt of my stepfather, and for a while not worry about where our next meal would come from, or where we would be sleeping that night, or when my mother would break and have to be sent yet again to the mental institution. Books, for me, we tiny life rafts that I clung to desperately.