A Quote by Emily Blunt

I had to learn to dance for 'The Adjustment Bureau' and it was nearly impossible. I turned up with my knees knocking in my leotard and went home and cried my eyes out. — © Emily Blunt
I had to learn to dance for 'The Adjustment Bureau' and it was nearly impossible. I turned up with my knees knocking in my leotard and went home and cried my eyes out.
She cried for the life she could not control. She cried for the mentor who had died before her eyes. She cried for the profound loneliness that filled her heart. But, above all, she cried for the future ... which suddenly felt so uncertain.
I had scabby knees with long socks up to my knees. I was scrumping for conkers with everyone else. I was out on my bike. I used to do the 100m sprint. We always wanted to be out playing.
Books that teach us to dance: There are writers who, by portraying the impossible as possible, and by speaking of morality and genius as if both were high-spirited freedom, as if man were rising up on tiptoe and simply had to dance out of inner pleasure.
I had to really learn what it meant to be on a set and what the expectations were and what producers are. I had to learn who I'm talking to and what their functions are. I had a couple of gaffes: I would ask a person a question, and it wasn't their job. I had to Google their job description. That was the first big adjustment.
The drama teacher that I had in high school, back in Texas, was the only teacher who didn't kick me out of his class. He turned me on to 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.' I had picked up Dylan with 'Bringing It All Back Home,' and he turned me on to the first couple of albums, which I hadn't heard.
So many I considered, closest to me,turned on a dime and sold me out dutifully,although that knife was chipping away at me,they turned their eyes away and went home to sleep.
And I wish that I was made of stone So that I would not have to see A beauty impossible to define A beauty impossible to believe A beauty impossible to endure The blood imparted in little sips The smell of you still on my hands As I bring the cup up to my lips No God up in the sky No devil beneath the sea Could do the job that you did, baby Of bringing me to my knees
When I turned 11, we had to leave East Germany overnight because of the political orientation of my father. Now I was going to school in West Germany, which was American-occupied at that time. There in school, all children were required to learn English and not Russian. To learn Russian had been difficult, but English was impossible for me.
Because I could dance, my folks went through hell so I could be in movies. But I didn't dance in pictures. I cried! At one point I had polio, which I believe was a result of the stress I felt in the studios.
I danced a little as a kid here in Canada: in Ottawa at the Elite Dance Studio and at the Top Hat Dance School in Cornwall where I grew up. So I had some experience of having to learn routines.
I was just at home walking around at home, and I started feel, well, just funny. You know how you can feel funny? I had a strange pain in my chest. So my housekeeper took me to the hospital, when they hooked me up and did all these tests turned out I had a big heart attack.
If your daughter loves tennis, don't send her to dance classes. Let them learn spirituality. Don't shut them up in air-conditioned rooms where they watch TV all day and snack on chips. Let them get out, play in the dirt, sweat it out and come back home.
I invented this wonderful death scene for Javert of going down on my knees and then leaning back like a limbo dancer to make it look as if I was falling off a bridge. I did it eight times a week for nearly a year and I've had trouble with my knees ever since - they don't even allow me to jog these days.
They seldom looked happy. They passed one another without a word in the elevator, like silent shades in hell, hell-bent on their next look from a handsome stranger. Their next rush from a popper. The next song that turned their bones to jelly and left them all on the dance floor with heads back, eyes nearly closed, in the ecstasy of saints receiving the stigmata.
You can't lie when you dance. It's so direct. You do what is in you. It is impossible to dance out of the side of your mouth.
I grew up walking out with no music. I wish I had the bottle to dance on but I can't dance.
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