A Quote by Dennis Quaid

I love acting and making your own luck. You have to recreate yourself, I guess. Although, I don't know how. — © Dennis Quaid
I love acting and making your own luck. You have to recreate yourself, I guess. Although, I don't know how.
I'm not a huge luck guy. I think you make your own luck. I don't really believe in some other force making your own luck.
I can't tell you about acting. You can develop all the skills, voice, gesture, movement, you can develop by exercise and practice but finally fundamentally it's mining from yourself, from your own personality, from what you know. If you can't know it you can have a good guess by people you know or books you've read.
I love acting. Acting is a true love of mine, acting and math. Although they are both creative, they use very different sides of your brain. And I love both. Acting is my first love, and that's my main career, it really is.
This thing we call luck is merely professionalism and attention to detail, it's your awareness of everything that is going on around you, it's how well you know and understand your airplane and your own limitations. Luck is the sum total of your of abilities as an aviator. If you think your luck is running low, you'd better get busy and make some more. Work harder. Pay more attention. Do better preflights.
Americans still believe they are cut out to be successful-in everything: love, love-making, luck, luck-giving, money-making, sense-making, cancer-avoiding, clothes-wearing, car-driving, and so on.
By working hard, by making the right moves, you can create your own luck, I think. But certainly luck plays a part.
If there's something left in me, it's better to go down fighting. You've got to have a bit of self-belief and confidence in yourself. I might know that I have only a little chance but I'm a good rider and I try to make it happen. You have to give luck a swift kick in the behind so it falls on your side. You have to make your own luck.
Although we're acting, and our minds know that we're acting, our bodies don't quite know that we're acting. So even when you're watching someone acting like they're dying, your body has like a true real response to it.
They take away your shoelaces and your belt so you can’t kill yourself no matter how bad it is. I guess making you live is part of the punishment.
If you're entering into fashion in an original way, you have to know your craft, and you have to know your history. You have to be obsessively dedicated. You have to be relentless about making it happen. It doesn't take a bank. It takes passion, love, timing, and luck.
When you dance, you own everything you have. You are really in your own body. You do it with your muscles and your bones and your weight and your height - it's how to love yourself by moving.
The first step in making better choices is to simply be brutally honest about your own behavior to yourself. What are the choices you are making? How are you spending your time? What are you neglecting that you shouldn't?
Get to know yourself. Know your own failings, passions, and prejudices so you can separate them from what you see. Know also when you actually have thought through to the nature of the thing with which you are dealing and when you are not thinking at all... Knowing yourself and knowing the facts, you can judge whether you can change the situation so it is more to your liking. If you cannot--or if you do not know how to improve on things--then discipline yourself to the adjustments that will be necessary.
I'm paid to be lucky and that means making your own luck - getting yourself in the right position, in front of the right subject at the right time, and in the right light.
If your mother did not know how to love herself, or your father did not know how to love himself, then it would be impossible for them to teach you to love yourself. They were doing the best they could with what they had been taught as children.
Give me yourself, O my God, give yourself back to me. Lo, I love you, but if my love is too mean, let me love more passionately. I cannot gauge my love, nor know how far it fails, how much more love I need for my life to set its course straight into your arms, never swerving until hidden in the covert of your face.
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