I can't conceive of cooking in a sunny place like Florida because my motivation comes from the changing seasons. That's why I decided to live in New York.
If ordinary people complain that I speak too much of myself, I complain that they do not even think of themselves.
I could go to L.A. for limited amounts of time, but I like New York too much. I like seasons. I like fall.
They say greatness skips a generation, but I think that's because the generation before helps too much.
I'd like to see more Canadians of diverse backgrounds engaging with parties that line up with their convictions and ideologies to make sure that no party gets to run against Muslim Canadians or any other group of Canadians and demonize them.
Actors are divas, and we all make too much noise and complain too much, so if you don't do that, it makes you rather exceptional, apparently.
The farms you live in will be yours for free. When mineworkers strike, it will be to complain that we are giving them too much money.
Look, we know we screwed up when we were in the majority. We fell in love with power. We spent way too much money - especially on earmarks. There was too much corruption when we ran this place. We were guilty. And that's why we lost.
I'm really into moderation. Too much of anything will harm you in the end. Too much sugar. Too much pasta. I'm into drugs as a teaching tool, which is why I only take hallucinogenics. I mean, it's not like I've never done cocaine, but, on the whole, if I can't see dancing elephants then I'm not interested.
I feel like if you don't put too much expectations and too much high hopes into things, everything will fall into place.
Okay, if this is what falling in love feels like, someone please kill me now. (Not literally, overzealous readers.) But it was all too much - too much emotion, too much happiness, too much longing, perhaps too much ice cream.
Cleaning cat litter is an unpleasant daily chore for me, but the DuraScoop makes it much less unpleasant.
I live a fantastic life. Why should I complain about awards?
Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please, With too much spirit to be e'er at ease, With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much thinking to have common thought: You purchase pain with all that joy can give, And die of nothing but a rage to live.
I was criticized for being too much concerned with the average Canadians. I can't help that; I am one of them!
Whenever I wanted to talk to anyone on the East Coast, it was way too late. Living three hours behind was one thing I complained about. The other thing, of course, was just that there were no seasons. I would complain about that too. Just tons of complaining, man, early on. I can't believe I'm still friends with the people I was friends with when I first started in LA.