A Quote by Sean Hepburn Ferrer

My mother always told me, 'I didn't make a perfume or go sell toilet paper. I did something good with my name.' — © Sean Hepburn Ferrer
My mother always told me, 'I didn't make a perfume or go sell toilet paper. I did something good with my name.'
I'm always concerned about marketing or commercial philosophies. I can't feel good about having my name on a bottle of perfume that comes from a factory making perfume with all the same ingredients as every other perfume. I can't feel good about a factory overseas polluting the air for something with my name on it. I'm okay with music - because it's digital or a CD. My music is my emotion in a bottle. But how is a perfume supposed to reflect me? How is a sweatshirt supposed to represent me?
Toilet paper - and no baby wipes - in the bathroom. If they're using dry paper, they aren't washing all of themselves. It's just unclean. So if I go in a woman's house and see the toilet paper there, I'll explain this. And if she doesn't make the adjustment to baby wipes, I'll know she's not completely clean.
I found out why cats drink out of the toilet. My mother told me it's because the water is cold in there. And I'm like: How did my mother know that?
Future generations are going to look at the way we make toilet paper as one of the greatest excesses of our age. Making toilet paper from virgin wood is a lot worse than driving Hummers in terms of global warming pollution.
You can't put toilet paper in the toilet [in the space ship], so there's a separate vacuum can in front of you on the wall and when you're done, you put the toilet paper in there and seal that up.
I don't always like to wear perfume - I really like body smells, that's the French in me - but there's something about putting perfume on before you go out that has intention.
One of the most jolting days of adulthood comes the first time you run out of toilet paper. Toilet paper, up until this point, always just existed. And now it's a finite resource, constantly in danger of extinction, that must be carefully tracked and monitored, like pandas?
If you stay in a house and you go to the bathroom and there is no toilet paper, you can always slide down the banisters. Don't tell me you haven't done it.
House Republicans are flimsier than toilet paper, except toilet paper actually has use. They're so pathetic.
My mother gave me very good advice years ago. I grew up in the Great Depression and she always told me to get a good little basic black dress - well-cut, well-made, good fabric - and it could take me through everything. I could go to the office in the morning and stay out all day in the same dress. Just by changing accessories, because they are so transformative, you can make six different outfits. I find that very useful. My mother worshipped at the altar of accessories and I'm an accessory freak, as everybody knows. That, I got from my mother.
You know how you toilet paper and egg somebody's house? I did it, right? But I did it back-to-back nights, Saturday and Sunday. They called the police. Good thing nobody got arrested but that was something embarrassing and stupid. Why would you do the same house twice? It was ridiculous.
There were a lot of times in the Cleveland and Chicago organizations when I did something, they wanted to make sure the camera was there. I really didn't want that. This isn't something my parents told me to do. Or something my family told me to do. Or do things for publicity. I do this on my own. I do this from my heart.
In captivity, one loses every way of acting over little details which satisfy the essentials of life. Everything has to be asked for: permission to go to the toilet, permission to ask a guard something, permission to talk to another hostage - to brush your teeth, use toilet paper, everything is a negotiation.
My mother had always told her kids: if you're about to do something, and you want to know if it's a bad idea, imagine seeing it printed in the paper for all the world to see.
[My dad] didn't do much apart from the traditional winning of bread. He didn't take me to get my hair cut or my teeth cleaned; he didn't make the appointments. He didn't shop for my clothes. He didn't make my breakfast, lunch, or dinner. My mom did all of those things, and nobody ever told her when she did them that it made her a good mother.
Like when I'm in the bathroom looking at my toilet paper, I'm like 'Wow! That's toilet paper?' I don't know if we appreciate how much we have.
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