A Quote by Frances Hodgson Burnett

I don't know who it is," she said; "but somebody cares for me a little. I have a friend. — © Frances Hodgson Burnett
I don't know who it is," she said; "but somebody cares for me a little. I have a friend.
I went to Bali, and I was in a small village, and somebody who was with me showed a woman a little figurine of Bart and asked: 'Do you know who this is?' And she said: 'Mickey Mouse.'
We were watching 'Madagascar' and Carmen asked me, she said, 'Is the zebra a boy or a girl?' and I said, 'He's a boy,' and she said 'How do you know?' and I said, 'Because I know him. I actually know all the actors that are doing the voices.' And she looks at me and she's like, 'You know a zebra? You know a talking zebra?'
Well, you know, the best compliment I've ever gotten from a coworker is Anna Drezen, who is a longtime friend of mine from college, which she was like - one day she turned to me and she said, you know, Bowen, you make video games seem accessible or you make it seem - you make them seem less esoteric or whatever she said.
You don't know me yet," I said. "Rory was telling me she lives in a swamp," Charlotte said. "That's right," I said, turning up my accent a little. "These are the very first shoes I've ever owned. They sure do pinch my feet." Jerome gave a little snort.
I just said, casually, 'You know, I passed up on auditioning for Einstein.' And my friend was like, 'You idiot, you have to do it!' She made me do it. I sent the tapes off assuming that somebody would say, 'Ha ha, very funny.'
My friend was about to introduce me when she looked at me and smiled and said, "Whose little boy are you?"
I had a very good English teacher who said to me that she thought I ought to do it. She - I don't know, she saw something thank goodness because I think if it hadn't been encouraged by somebody that serious, I'm not sure what would've happened to me.
There was a producer from the Aspen Comedy Festival who happened to be there, as a friend of a friend, and she said, "I'd like to book you into the Aspen Comedy Festival," and we said, "Well, there isn't really a show to book in, this is just a little showcase and it's really our workshop." And she said, "No, it's great, I love it, just do exactly what you did."
After the last screening [of "Selling Isobel" ] an 18-year-old girl came up to me and said, "Oh my God, I'm so naïve." I said, "No, you're not, you're just young." And she's so grateful for having seen it, because she's an actress and from now on she's going to take a friend with her to auditions and let her mom know exactly where she's going. That's a job done right there.
What I like about [Berthold] Brecht, it's very interesting. When Helene Weigel came over and somebody talked about Lotte Lenya and said "well, she wasn't alienating." And Weigel said "No, no, no. Why, Lotte Lenya was so true - who cares?" She said: "Berti only developed the theory of alienation in order to stop bad acting." I heard her say that. Now that's brilliant.
A couple of years ago, I went to see a production of Wicked in San Francisco with a friend of mine, one that Patty Duke was in, and he said, "Do you want to meet her?" And I said, "Yeah!" And I went backstage, and she walked out of her dressing room, looked at me, and said, "I know you." And I went, "Well, uh, yeah, I was in My Sweet Charlie." And she said, "Yeah! You were the guy in the car on the road!" And I was. It was amazing.
Technologically, I live in the 17th century; I don't have a computer, I don't have any of that stuff. I don't look at the Internet, although I know people tell me I'm all over it. Somebody told me they Googled me, and they said I was mentioned two million times, some stupid thing... but who cares?
Somebody's girlfriend," she said. "Somebody's sister, somebody's daughter. All these things I never knew I was before, and I still don't really know what I am.
I'm a stranger," pointed out Bod. "You're not," she said, definitely. "You're a little boy." And then she said, "And you're my friend. So you can't be a stranger.
If somebody said my wife's not beautiful, I'd go, she is. I wouldn't say, really? No, she is. I know she is. In my mind, you know.
I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn't that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life.
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