A Quote by Loretta Lynn

There's always been a man telling me what to do. — © Loretta Lynn
There's always been a man telling me what to do.
Recently, my personal advisors have been telling me to go to America. Actually, people have been walking up to me in the street and telling me to sod off, but that's the same thing, isn't it?
I remember my agent at ICM at the beginning of my career telling me that I wasn't pretty enough, that I was always going to be a quirky sidekick. And he was an ogre of a man. He should have been carrying a torch. If he was in a bar, he couldn't have come near me, and then he was deciding my fate.
My mom has always been beside me, always telling me what's right and what's not, guiding me through it all, keeping me away from bad company and from bad habits.
I'm drawn to subversive material and material that speaks to communities and people who tend to be marginalized, and telling those stories in ways that subvert expectations. That's always been fun for me to play and always been fun for me to write.
People have always been telling me what I can't do. I guess I have wanted to show them. That's been one of my driving forces all my life.
Ogbuef Ezedudu,who was the oldest man in the village, was telling two other men when they came to visit him that the punishment for breaking the Peace of Ani had become very mild in their clan. "It has not always been so," he said. "My father told me that he had been told that in the past a man who broke the peace was dragged on the ground through the village until he died. but after a while this custom was stopped because it spoiled the peace which it was meant to preserve.
From my mom telling me 'no' to now telling everyone I'm the champion, and she's so proud of me, and to prove to a lot of people - who didn't believe in me, who didn't think I was going to be here - that I'm here, and I did it. It's been a roller coaster of emotions; it's amazing.
I think when you have a disability people are always putting limitations on you, telling you, even in a nice way, what you can't do. My attitude to that has always been: You can't tell me that. I'll show you.
Man, after all my grandma put into me learning the piano, that was a hard day, telling her I was telling jokes for a living.
I've always had a man's mindset, and that's why I mostly have men friends, and that's why I've been around so many men. I've always been a tomboy. And any man that knows me will tell you I'm not a girly girl.
I've always had a man's mindset, and that's why I mostly have men friends and that's why I've been around so many men. I've always been a tomboy. And any man that knows me will tell you I'm not a girly girl.
I've always been sure of my vision, but I've been in meetings where men have been talking about me like I'm not there... I've been told I should be a certain way, and I wondered if that would have been the case if I was a man.
To me, horror is when I see somebody lying. I mean a person I know. A friend. And he's telling me something that I accept. And then suddenly, as he or she is telling it, there's something that gives them away. They're not telling me the truth.
My father always taught by telling stories about his experiences. His lessons were about morality and art and what insects and birds and human beings had in common. He told me what it meant to be a man and to be a Black man. He taught me about love and responsibility, about beauty, and how to make gumbo.
Last but not least my family. My brother Tony, I love you. Thank you for beating me up when I was a kid. I always wanted to follow in your footsteps. I pray for you every night. You’ve taught me to feel confident in myself, believe in myself that I can do it when I didn’t think I could do it. Dad, it’s been an up-and-down road for all of us, but you’ve always been there supporting from afar, texting me Bible verses every single day, telling me you love me every single day. That builds me up and I thank you so much. I love you. I’m just glad you’re part of this journey with us.
Suddenly I realize that this is what I've been waiting for - a man who depends entirely on me... I dreamed for years of a man who couldn't live without me, a man who pictured my face when he closed his eyes, who loved me when I was a mess in the morning and when dinner was late and even when I overloaded the washing machine and burned out the motor. [My son] stares up at me as if I can do no wrong. I have always wanted someone who treats me the way he does; I just didn't know that I'd have to give birth to him.
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