A Quote by Jeanne Calment

Excuse me if I'm clinging on to life, but my parents wove me from tight thread. — © Jeanne Calment
Excuse me if I'm clinging on to life, but my parents wove me from tight thread.
For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain, And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery and Man!
One of the biggest mistakes that most people make is clinging to the excuse that the time isn't quite right to take action. Well, let me tell you something: In my experience, conditions are never right at the right time. The timing is always wrong. So if you're waiting for everything to be perfect before taking action, you have a foolproof excuse for never taking action.
The lead of a film that wove around me, I played all the roles. I traveled the world; I loved life, pleasure. I adored to write, create.
My life hasn't changed, it's been the same. What's helped me with that is keeping my circle tight, having the people that care about me around me.
Life is either always a tight-rope or a featherbed. Give me a tight-rope.
I am tired of clinging. Though I cannot see it with my eyes, I trust that the current knows where it is going. I shall let go, and let it take me where it will. Clinging, I shall die of boredom.
My parents were there: in front of me, behind me, in the middle of my life at all times: reprimanding me, giving me confidence, teaching me valuable lessons, to help make me the man I am today.
Life is a flux, nothing abides. Still we are such fools, we go on clinging. If change is the nature of life, then clinging is stupidity, because your clinging is not going to change the law of life. Your clinging is only going to make you miserable. Things are bound to change; whether you cling or not does not matter. If you cling you become miserable: you cling and they change, you feel frustrated. If you don`t cling they still change, but then there is no frustration because you were perfectly aware that they are bound to change. This is how things are, this is the suchness of life.
My parents, my family, that's the biggest inspiration in my life. I've been in a lot of dark spots in my life, and if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be able to get out of it, but they are who they are. They followed me. They yelled at me. They screamed at me. They loved me.
I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose. Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose. Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night. You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light. And I will remember you. Will you remember me? Don't let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.
I take this for myself, and you take up the thread of my life between your teeth, tin thread and tarnished with abuse, you shall still hear as long as the beast in me maintains its taciturn power to close my lids in tears, and my loins move yet in the ennobling pursuit of all the worlds you have left me alone in, and would be the dolorous distraction from, while you summon your army of anguishes which is a million hooting blood vessels on the eyes and in the ears at that instant before death.
Sometimes people say to me, “I want to write, but I have five kids, a full-time job, a wife who beats me, a tremendous debt to my parents,” and so on. I say to them, “There is no excuse. If you want to write, write. This is your life. You are responsible for it. You will not live forever. Don’t wait. Make the time now, even if it is ten minutes once a week."
I write short, my words tight to the thread of the narrative.
Cassandra, when you want to speak to me, you should say 'Excuse me, Mrs. Johnson.' Then wait until you get my attention." "Excuse me, Mrs. Johnson. Do I have your attention now?
I think my parents were really smart parents. I think they were, actually, pretty progressive for the time. The one thing that they really wanted me to know is what makes me tick, what I am about, how I approach life. And I think what my parents really wanted for me was for me to be who I am.
A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to lap me in content, The rivers wove their charms, And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass!
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