A Quote by Lillie Langtry

I felt weary of the responsibility of owning houses and was glad enough to pass mine on to others. — © Lillie Langtry
I felt weary of the responsibility of owning houses and was glad enough to pass mine on to others.
Some of us are better at owning the responsibility of our actions than others.
I see it as a responsibility of mine to teach others.
Bringing Mid-World to a new readership felt like a big responsibility, but I'm so glad that readers have enjoyed the story. That is a reward in itself.
I am never weary of being useful... In serving others I cannot do enough. No labor is sufficient to tire me.
I am terribly glad to be alive; and when I have wit enough to think about it, terribly proud to be a man and an American, with all the rights and privileges that those words connote; and most of all I am humble before the responsibilities that are also mine. For no right comes without a responsibility, and being born luckier than most of the world's millions, I am also born more obligated.
I'm glad that I lost, I'm glad that I failed, I'm glad that I felt that way and decided to do something about it... I never wanted to feel that way again and it drove me.
Creative people tend to pass the responsibility for getting down to brass tacks to others.
When I see someone from Beijing owning 50 houses in Auckland I don't think that's neo-racist
When we ask we are owning our needs. Asking for love, comfort or understanding is a transaction between two people. You are saying: I have a need. It's not your problem. It's not your responsibility. You don't have to respond, but I'd like something from you. This frees the other person to connect with you freely and without obligation. When we own that our needs are our responsibility we allow others to love us because we have something to offer. Asking is a far cry from demanding. When we demand love, we destroy it.
If you start to pass blame or responsibility on to others, that's when I'm going to start to get really angry.
There's a lot of power and responsibility that comes with owning who you are as a woman.
And yet I love him. I love him so much and so dearly, that when I sometimes think my life may be but a weary one, I am proud of it and glad of it. I am proud and glad to suffer something for him, even though it is of no service to him, and he will never know of it or care for it.
I came to Jesus as I was, weary and worn and sad; I found in Him a resting place, and he has made me glad.
Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet, Still round the corner we may meet A sudden tree or standing stone That none have seen but we alone. Tree and flower and leaf and grass, Let them pass! Let them pass!
Paris was sad. One of the saddest towns: weary of its now-mechanical sensuality, weary of the tension of money, money, money, weary even of resentment and conceit, just weary to death, and still not sufficiently Americanized or Londonized to hide the weariness under a mechanical jig-jig-jig!
I just felt that it was my responsibility, since so many people had taken the time to help me along, to do the same for others.
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