A Quote by Lisa Ling

I honestly never had the biological need to reproduce until I met my husband. But by the same token, even if we were unsuccessful, we were totally okay with adopting. — © Lisa Ling
I honestly never had the biological need to reproduce until I met my husband. But by the same token, even if we were unsuccessful, we were totally okay with adopting.
For 'Frost/Nixon,' I had eight people who were present at those interviews - they were all in the room - and when I interviewed each of them, they had a totally different narrative of events, to the degree where you thought, 'Were you all really in the same room?'
Honestly, I never thought we'd get a nomination for a Grammy, period. To be honest, we felt that if we were ever going to get one, we thought we had 'City of Evil' and 'Nightmare' and 'Hail to the King,' and those were all big records, and they never even sniffed at us.
The only thing Jess really cared about were those two children and letting them know they were okay. Because even if the whole world was throwing rocks at you, if you had your mother at your back, you'd be okay. Some deep-rooted part of you would know you were loved. That you deserved to be loved.
I always knew I wanted to have children of my own. I met my husband Daniel when I was 23; we were married when I was pregnant with my first child, Ossian. We've had our ups and downs like every couple, especially when we were younger.
My label, my genre, my everything is happy sad - I do a smiley face with eyes on both sides. So basically to me, it's totally okay to be happy and sad at the same time, it's totally okay just to be sad, it's totally okay to be happy.
I wasn't that academic, but I always made sure I was earning money. I never wanted to put all my eggs in one basket. Even when I started doing music, my parents were like, 'You need to work; you can't just live off music.' I always knew that. So I worked until I knew I was going to be financially okay.
As ugly an admission as this is, I met my wife at a party, and if I had been to the same party and she were dressed in different clothes, I might never have talked to her. She might have projected something that I found distasteful, even if she otherwise looked exactly the same - a beautiful woman to me.
It's strange because even in the vaudeville days, ventriloquists were never the main attraction. They were the guys brought out to stand in front of the curtain while sets were being changed. Ventriloquism wasn't even celebrated as an art until Edgar Bergen came along in the 1930s.
My parents were fairly laid-back, but there were certain things about which they were very strict. My brother and I were told never to turn away a person in need. And it didn't matter what we thought of their motives, whether they were truly in need or not.
We met in the summer or fall of 2001. I had never met Kate [DiCamillo], though I'd heard her name, and I think she knew of me too. We were laughing within a few minutes, I mean really, furiously, laughing. So we were off to a good start.
All through the nineties I met people. Crowds of people. Met and met and met, until it seemed that people were born and hastily grew up, just to be met.
Even on the witness stand at trial, there were people up there and I had no clue who they were. I had never seen them a day in my life and they were pointing the finger at me saying that I was their boss.
Magnus had learned to be careful about giving his memories with his heart. When people died, it felt like all the pieces of yourself you had given to them went as well. It took so long, building yourself back up until you were whole again, and you were never entirely the same.
Neil Amin-Smith and I met playing in classical orchestras when we were children. We are from the same area of London. We met Jack Patterson when we were studying at Cambridge University, and decided to start the band together.
In ancient Boeotia brides were carried home in vehicles whose wheels were burned at the door, in token, that they would never again be needed.
In refugee camps around the world, I met people who were gone. They were still walking around but had lost so much that they were unable to claim any sort of identity. Others I met found who they truly were, and they generally found it through service to others. They became teachers when there was no school, books or pencils.
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