A Quote by Billy Wilder

The forest of Compiegne. Look at it. Like a kind grandmother dozing in her rocking chair. Old trees practicing curtsies in the wind because they still think Louis XIV is king.
[On her 101-year-old sister and herself, at 103:] We have a lot to do ... People don't understand this. They think we're sitting around in rocking chairs, which isn't at all true. Why, we don't even own a rocking chair.
Use crazy glue and nails to turn a rocking chair into just a chair that looks like a rocking chair.
I'm not drunk onstage, although I've done that a couple of times when I was younger. It's partly just the way I talk - I talk like somebody in a rocking chair. I'm your 150-year-old grandmother.
Americans have a taste for…rocking-chairs. A flippant critic might suggest that they select rocking-chairs so that, even when they are sitting down, they need not be sitting still. Something of this restlessness in the race may really be involved in the matter; but I think the deeper significance of the rocking-chair may still be found in the deeper symbolism of the rocking-horse. I think there is behind all this fresh and facile use of wood a certain spirit that is childish in the good sense of the word; something that is innocent, and easily pleased.
Worry is like rocking in a rocking chair all day, because it keeps you busy but gets you nowhere.
There was this one time in Vegas when I took four Victoria's Secret models and did one gram off each of their bodies within, like, 45 minutes. I declared myself King of Vegas and decided to remodel my hotel room with my bare hands to resemble King Louis XIV's bedroom at Versailles. Knocked down two entire walls, and later had four knuckle surgeries. Still wasn't as high as Rob Ford.
This is what I have heard at last the wind in December lashing the old trees with rain unseen rain racing along the tiles under the moon wind rising and falling wind with many clouds trees in the night wind.
Relatively mild gusts of wind blow some trees down. Graceful palm trees, for example, are lovely to look at but will not stand up in a heavy wind because they are not well anchored.
One of these days I will be an old man in a rocking chair on a porch. Wouldn't it be nice to have my whole life there to read and kind of re-live it.
I'm not a type of grandmother sitting in a rocking chair. I'm a lot in the theater. I'm a lot at concerts. I'm a lot at friends.' I like to go out for dinner. I don't have to be home one night a week if I don't want to.
A political country is like an American forest; you have only to cut down the old trees, and immediately new trees come up to replace them.
I'm the kind of person who would rather rock in my rocking chair when I'm old and regret a few things that I did than to sit there and regret that I never tried.
Dance is very, very old. With Louis XIV at Versailles is where ballet started.
Hell, I'm an old man. I'm 70 years old. I'm supposed to be sitting on a rocking chair watching the sunset.
So rests the sky against the earth. The dark still tarn in the lap of the forest. As a husband embraces his wife's body in faithful tenderness, so the bare ground and trees are embraced by the still, high, light of the morning. I feel an ache of longing to share in this embrace, to be united and absorbed. A longing like carnal desire, but directed towards earth, water, sky, and returned by the whispers of the trees, the fragrance of the soil, the caresses of the wind, the embrace of water and light. Content? No, no, no - but refreshed, rested - while waiting.
When Louis XIV assumed the reins of government France suddenly and wonderfully came to her maturity; it was as if the whole nation had burst into splendid flower.
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