Best 77 quotes in «gypsy quotes» category

A gypsy told me I was going to do great things. I was going to make all kinds of money.

As a model, it's a gypsy kind of life: living in hotels, working all the time and ordering room service instead of cooking for yourself. There's absolutely no nest-building.

Art is an outsider, a gypsy over the face of the earth.

And I remember most of what I know that is good and true and lasting has come not from scholars but from minstrels and gypsies.

Flamenco is Arabic music and rhythms filtered through centuries of gypsies making music. The gypsies themselves came originally from India. And then there is the Caribbean influences... This whole idea that there is any such thing in music that "purity" is bunk, it just doesn't exist. I love that I am playing these rhythms to people. And the next time they hear something that's maybe a little more exotic, I have created a little bridge, and they are going, "Oh, this actually sounds really cool. It reminds me a little bit of that, but it's something different.

Despite my being an old gypsy there is a tendency to respectability inherent in old age.

I can only go places because I know that I can go away from them, if that makes sense. I like the gypsy lifestyle that filming affords.

Gypsy [Rose Lee ] was a masterful storyteller, and her memoir and by extension, the musical weren't only Gypsy's monument; they were also her chance for monumental revisionism.

I guess I haven't gotten over being lost, a wandering gypsy.

If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that you never say no to an old gypsy woman with a blind eye and leprous fingernails.

I had a gypsy upbringing, so I moved around all over the place and can't remember a street I grew up on.

I greatly admired Gypsy [Rose Lee] for being able to rise above her circumstances; I was terrified of her; I thought she was generous; I thought she was brilliant; I thought she was cruel.

I'm a wandering gypsy.

I'm living in Los Angeles for a couple of years. I've been a gypsy for quite a while. It'll come to an end. I'm going to come back to New York.

I played the Piccadilly Theater with "Gypsy" and also the Old Vic, and I've done other shows in London, but not for 40 years.

I remember my mother had this deck of cards that her mother had given her and that she passed on to me. It was a gypsy tarot deck that I used to carry everywhere.

I'll always stand by my Gypsy roots, and I'll always help out one of my own.

I was very burned out after Buffy. It was exhausting. It took me from essentially 18 on the pilot to being 24 and married when we finished. That show was my life. I was doing movies on the hiatuses and on weekends, but I needed to explore and live that gypsy lifestyle.

It is impossible to imagine a more complete fusion with nature than that of the Gypsy.

I was a gypsy, living a carefree life of ponies and tennis.

Jews and Gypsies were well-nigh the only Diasporas in 19th century Europe. Now go to London, it is a collection of Diasporas.

Most people that work in [show] business, if they're not gypsies by nature, become gypsies, just because of the reality of this business.

In the oldest chronicles of the times conserved in Hungary, reports will be found of Gypsy music, but never of any other, either Magyar, Slavic or Jewish.

The flamenco of the Gypsy has nothing to do with the flamenco for tourists. Real flamenco is like sex.

My own personal favorite Cher song is the unforgettable Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.

Some words live in my throat breeding like adders. Others know sun seeking like gypsies over my tongue to explode through my lips

Literature, like a gypsy, to be picturesque, should be a little ragged.

One of the biggest questions to me was whether or not Gypsy the person was capable of loving anyone or anything beyond Gypsy Rose Lee the creation, and even that was a conflicted, tortured relationship.

Say what you will about Gypsy women, but they are remarkable assessors of blues guitar talent.

The music of the Gypsies belongs in the sphere of improvisation rather than in any other, without which it would have no power to exist.

The advantage of the gypsy language, even though I don't understand it that much, the language is perfect melody. So if you propose the movie the way I do, then the language is just one part of the melody. Orchestrating all inside, and the language is following the meaning of what they say, and it's never the same as written.

This week, I'm a gypsy. Maybe next week it'll be glitter rock.

Will: I say we sell her to the Gypsies on Hampstead Heath. I hear they puchase spare women as well as hoses. Charlotte: Will, stop it. That's ridivulous. Will:You're right. They'd never buy her. Too scrawny.

And then she learnt to be a little wild she had to be a little less afraid.

Be an individual, let out the self that hides away at the expense of others approval.

Was it a light only she could see? A gypsy's spell? A mystery?

And because I’m a widow, you assume I’m ripe to your trickery and silver tongue.” “I’m a Roma. You describe my specialty.

Born at Letterman Army Hospital. I never actually lived in San Francisco. It's not my home town, but then, I don't have one. I'm a nomad...a gypsy...an Army Brat. Put me on an airplane, send me anywhere. That's where I belong...anywhere.

Don't compare her to sunshine and roses when she's clearly orchids and moonlight.

He’d been toting it, and checking it, and packing and unpacking, all the way since fate was on the river - that’s how long - the Big River” - Fate Marable and his riverboat caliope (Cleo seemed to recall), who hadastonished the landings between New Orleans and St. Louis with the wild, harsh, skirling Gypsy music, and left there, echoing in the young and restless even as it dies off round the bed; to linger with them thereafter, in the pelting roar of November midnights and the clickety-clack of lonesome valley freights, until they up one night and go after it in a battered bus, following the telephone wires that make a zigzag music staff against the evening sky - some variation of that basic beginning could be told for everyone who jazz has touched and altered.

Hair tangled with the wind Sun kissed face Lover of the forest the sea the sky and anything wild and free She’s a gypsy goddess.

Finding her voice at last, she asked, “What dreams are you having, sir?” “I dreamt I was in a spring field and a woman stands in the shadows just at the edge of the nearby forest. I haven’t yet seen her face, only her long beautiful hair. I always wake too soon.” He reached up to touch the hawk touchstone around his throat as he described his dream, rubbing it absently between his fingers. Lily lowered her lashes to hide her astonishment. “When you see someone in a dream but cannot see their face, it means you haven’t met them yet,” she explained. “Then perhaps I’ll dream of her again tonight and this time I’ll see her face.” He smiled, reaching across the table to take her left hand and lift it to his lips. “My name is Ian Kelly, and it would give me the greatest pleasure to know yours.” “Lily Evans. Around here I go by Raven.” She raised a shoulder, indicating the gypsy tent. “Lily--indeed, a most beautiful name. Now tell me,” he stared pointedly at her hand, “I see no ring that another has claimed you as his, so my confidence is strengthened. Look at your cards again, milady, and tell me if you see me in your future…

For all that, I don’t think Gypsies ought to be likened to birds of ill-omen. They return evil for evil, and good for good. One hundredfold. Their powers seem to exceed them. I knew some in Spain who could read the stars; in Germany, who could heal burns; in the Camargue, who tended horses and could lessen the birthing pains of both women and beasts. There are some human beings who are not bound by human laws. The sad thing is perhaps they’re not all aware of it. Meanwhile, here’s an idea I volunteer: the day when the borders of Europe and elsewhere become, as they once were, open to the movement of nomadic tribes that some regard as ‘worrisome’, it would be interesting if researchers qualified in astronomy (yes, indeed), with calenders and terrestrial and celestial maps to hand, were to examine the routes travelled by wandering Gypsies. Maybe they’ll discover that these slow and apparently aimless journeys are related to cosmic forces. Like wars. And migrations. The Gypsies were persecuted, in France and elsewhere, with cyclical regularity in a vicious, inept and stupid manner. Almost as much as the Jews.

Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

I am an artist, my hair is rarely tamed & sometimes I sleep till noon, My house is messy and I speak to the moon. I care less about the materials that I share with my world and more about the passion inside myself. Im an artist, what more can you expect? i am full of soul, love and all the rest.

I am running and singing and when it’s raining I’m the only one left on the open street, smiling with my eyes fixed on the sky because it’s cleaning me. I’m the one on the other side of the party, hearing laughter and the emptying of bottles while I peacefully make my way to the river, a lonely road, following the smell of the ocean. I’m the one waking up at 4am to witness the sunrise, where the sky touches the sea, and I hold my elbows, grasping tight to whatever I’ve made of myself.

I am wild, untameable, the storm and the eye within An unpredictable gypsy, with passion beyond your wildest dreams and unquenchable desires for you and you alone... Persistent and fiercely loyal, today I choose to be all of these and more… Will you still be here tomorrow?

I don't paint what people expect, I paint what my heart yearns to express.

Her love is rare but she'll keep you wild.

I don't want fleeting friendships or relationships or passion in life, give me fleeting moments in coffee shops and walks by the water but I will never be satisfied with empty kinships that are fleeting & undecided. Those connections are what make us all human and I dare not settle my wild little heart for something of so little depth.