A Quote by Jennifer Grant

To be honest, I think I'd become a bit selfish with memories of my father. I wanted to hug them close to me. — © Jennifer Grant
To be honest, I think I'd become a bit selfish with memories of my father. I wanted to hug them close to me.
When I was in high school, my thing was to get as close as humanly possible to a girl and just make her have to kiss me! You do the hug that's too close, where your mouth is close to hers and you kinda feel it out a little bit.
I think the show has so many wonderful memories connected to it for lots of people. When fans come to see me at the Andy Griffith Museum they get so emotional. Some of them cry, lots of them hug me and some want a kiss on the cheek.
'Dark Side of the Moon' was one of my father's favorite records, which I obviously didn't understand when I was young. To be honest, I don't really have too many memories of hearing it, but I definitely have memories of the cover.
I was finding it very difficult to find a label that understood what I wanted to do and really believed that people wanted to hear something honest and a little bit different. So, I did feel a bit like a clown. You're knocking on everyone's door trying to get them to believe what you're doing.
I'm quite shocked and have been for quite a while as for the way people are treating each other. That's why I go out and I speak for the hungry, and if I see somebody needs a hug during the day, I'll go and give them a hug, and I think we should all use a little bit more of that.
My father always wanted me to be president of the United States, and his fallback position was that I not become a ward of the county. I think my father was okay about my going into journalism, though.
Some memories remain close; you can shut your eyes and find yourself back in them. But there are second-person memories, too, distant you memories, and these are trickier: you watch yourself in disbelief.
I wasn't close to my father, but I wanted to be all my life. He had a funny sense of humor, and he laughed all the time - good and loud, like I do. He was a gay Irish gentleman and very good-looking. And he wanted to be close to me, too, but we never had much time together.
My memories mean a lot to me, and I hold them close to my heart.
To talk about something like prostitution, the other person then becomes the wild card that will have a response, and it may not be the response you want. Sometimes I think saying it would be selfish to tell them is still being under the illusion that you have all the power. You say it would be selfish to tell them, when in fact you're scared that in telling them, it gives them the power to do what they might want to do because once they know, they become somebody who could be reactive.
Analysis helps patients put their unconscious procedural memories and actions into words and into context, so they can better understand them. In the process they plastically retranscribe these procedural memories, so that they become conscious explicit memories, sometimes for the first time, and patients no longer need to "relive" or "reenact" them, especially if they were traumatic.
Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle-it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act if self-preservation. It's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?
I have more eating memories than cooking memories and many memories of being in the kitchen - I was always attracted to the kitchen - but nobody ever wanted me to touch anything.
I think men under pressure - I mean, that's what brings out the worst and the best of us. I like to explore that quite a bit in my characters because I don't see a lot of it on the screen that moved me like the films that I grew up with - that are honest, at least, about honest emotions and honest heroism.
Also, it was a bit hopeless," he said. "A bit defeatist." "If by defeatist you mean honest, then I agree." "I don't think defeatism is honest, " Dad answered. "I refuse to accept that.
You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.
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