A Quote by Alexander Theroux

It's true, you can never eat a pet you name. And anyway, it would be like a ventriloquist eating his dummy. — © Alexander Theroux
It's true, you can never eat a pet you name. And anyway, it would be like a ventriloquist eating his dummy.
Like a ventriloquist who laughs at his dummy's jokes, I keep trying to make photographs that seduce me into believing in the image - all the time knowing better, but believing anyway.
You're alive!" Fezzik cried. The man in black sat immobile, like a ventriloquist's dummy, just his mouth moving. "That is perhaps the most childishly obvious remark I have ever come across.
All through college, I was searching for characters that would make me unique and set me apart from the typical ventriloquist with the typical dummy that was the little boy, cheeky hard figure like Charlie McCarthy.
Just like every kid who comes into show business on some level, I used to put shows on in my basement. I even started with doing tricks and having a ventriloquist dummy.
To be accused of 'channeling' is to be dismissed as a ventriloquist's live dummy, derogated at not having a mind of one's own.
One suggestion is to regard your personality as a pet. It follows you around anyway, so give it a name and make friends with it. Keep it on a leash when you need to, and let it run free when you feel that is appropriate. Train it as well as you can, and then accept its idiosyncrasies, but always remember that your pet is not you. Your pet has its own life, and just happens to be in an intimate relationship with you, whoever you may be, hiding there behind your personality.
I admire ventriloquists, because I can't do that. I mean, I might get mistaken for a ventriloquist dummy every now and then, but I can't do what they do.
I don't think there's anything that I would really baulk at doing on-screen. I don't think so. I've got certain pet peeves about writing... my pet peeve about reading scripts is when they give you a line reading and there'll be a line but next to your character's name it'll say 'very angry'. But I'm like: "Well, I'll decide that actually!" So, there's little things like that. That's a slight pet peeve.
When I was at school and wasn't having a great time or when music wasn't going very well, I would eat, eat. Eating would make me feel better; when I felt lonely, I would eat.
He couldn’t see why people made such a fuss about people eating their silly old fruit anyway, but life would be a lot less fun if they didn’t. And there was never an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.
True love was forever lost. The prince was never coming back to kiss me awake from my enchanted sleep. I was not a princess, after all. So what was the fairy-tale protocol for other kisses? The mundane kind that didn't break any spells? Maybe it would be easy - like holding his hand or having his arms around me. Maybe it would feel nice. Maybe it wouldn't fell like a betrayal. Besides, who was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.
I know, in my soul, that to eat a creature who is raised to be eaten, and who never has a chance to be a real being, is unhealthy. It's like...you're just eating misery. You're eating a bitter life.
Because you're fat, you feel that everybody's watching every bite you take. So, you closet-eat, and you think because nobody sees you eating, then you're not eating. You know, if you're eating a Big Mac in a closed car, can anybody hear you nosh? If I ate only what people saw me eat, I would've probably been about 170 pounds.
I'm close to being a vegan, but I'm not one, technically. I don't eat eggs, or nearly any dairy - no cheese or milk. I do eat honey, and a piece of milk chocolate here and there. It's never really been that hard for me. I've never had any desire to eat meat. In fact, when I was a kid I would have a really difficult time eating meat at all. It had to be the perfect bite, with no fat or gristle or bone or anything like that. I don't judge people who eat meat - that's not for me to say - but the whole thing just sort of bums me out.
The name, his true name, was weaker and more flawed than he would have liked, and he hated himself for that, but there was also much to admire within it, and the more he thought about it, the more he was able to accept the true nature of his self. He was not the best person in the world, but neither was he the worst.
Santa is a much bigger and more powerful faery than Toot, and I don't know his true name anyway. You'd never see me trying to nab Saint Nick in a magic circle even if I did. I don't think anyone has stones that big.
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