A Quote by Amanda Holden

In the past, I've thrown myself into work so much there's been very little room for anything else. — © Amanda Holden
In the past, I've thrown myself into work so much there's been very little room for anything else.
...being Lulu, it made me realize that all my life I've been living in a small, square room, with no windows and no doors. And I was fine. I was happy, even. I thought. Then someone came along and showed me there was a door in the room. One that I'd never even seen before. Then he opened it for me. Held my hand as I walked through it. And for one perfect day, I was on the other side. I was somewhere else. Someone else. And then he was gone, and I was thrown back into my little room. And now, no matter what I do, I can't seem to find that door.
I feel I have proved myself just as much as everybody else does. I usually don't think about the past too much. I just try to perform the routines I have been practicing.
Day and night she had drudged and struggled and thrown her soul into her work, and there was not much of her left over for anything else. Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things. Through the lies, she lived vicariously. The lies doubled the little of her existence that was left over from work and augmented the little rag end of her personal life.
I've been in a very male-dominated business for decades. I found, particularly early on, that there's plenty of room for passion, but there's very little room for emotion.
I've been incredibly blessed with good roles the past few years, but none of them compares to the experience of playing Ellsworth on 'Deadwood.' There are times when I've had as much fun or had comparably great material, but as a body of work, playing Ellsworth tops anything else in my lifetime.
I'm very grateful that I had work to do. I may have thrown myself off a building.
I don't know if it's naivete or just narcissism, but I start out with this notion that I can do anything. It's not until I get into it that I realize what I've thrown myself into, and then I will do anything not to humiliate myself. And that, I think, is the secret to my success.
I collect pictures of adorable puppies on my phone. I have little room for anything else.
There would never be any room in her for anything else. No room for anything but the realization of what she had done.
There are very few things in the mind which eat up as much energy as worry. It is one of the most difficult things not to worry about anything. Worry is experienced when things go wrong, but in relation to past happenings it is idle merely to wish that they might have been otherwise. The frozen past is what it is, and no amount of worrying is going to make it other than what it has been. But the limited ego-mind identifies itself with its past, gets entangled with it and keeps alive the pangs of frustrated desires.
There are some women ... in whom conscience is so strongly developed that it leaves little room for anything else.
In an age where there is much talk about "being yourself," I reserve to myself the right to forget about being myself, since in any case there is very little chance of my being anybody else.
I have never been able to understand the compelling phrase, 'keeping up with the Joneses.' It does not matter very much whether I keep up with Tom Jones or anybody else; what is important is to keep up with myself by making my today a little better than my yesterday.
I'm able to lead my life as well as make a film. My wife and my friends and people around me know that I do tend to distance myself a little bit during the making of a film, but I have to, it's a natural part of the process for me because you are indulging in the headspace of somebody else, you are investing in the psychology of somebody else and you are becoming somebody else, and so there isn't enough room for you and that somebody else.
Children with harsh fathers accept much of what is thrown their way as normal because they don’t have a frame of reference for anything else, and this twisted template unfortunately becomes the basis for their picture of the heavenly Father.
I should be sorry to think it was the publishers themselves they got up this entire little flutter to enable them to unload a book that was taking too much room in their cellars, but you can never tell what a publisher will do. I have been one myself.
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