A Quote by Mary Cain
My competitors won't be thinking, 'Oh, she's only 18, let's go a little slower for her.'
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The Church has surrendered her once lofty concept of God and has substituted for it one so low, so ignoble, as to be utterly unworthy of thinking, worshiping men. This she has not done deliberately, but little by little and without her knowledge; and her very unawareness only makes her situation all the more tragic.
Mum and I have always been close. Her adoptive parents died when she was 18, and she doesn't have any other kids, so I'm her only family. She lives life to the full, and I envy her vitality. She has pink hair and is a younger spirit than me.
I never grew up thinking, 'Why aren't there any Asians?' But then Lucy Liu came on, and I was like, 'Oh my God, she is my favorite.' I was nothing like her, but I just loved her because she was the only Asian I saw.
She remembered that once, when she was a little girl, she had seen a pretty young woman with golden hair down to her knees in a long flowered dress, and had said to her, without thinking, "Are you a princess?" The girl had laughed very kindly at her and asked her what her name was. Blanche remembered going away from her, led by her mother's hand, thinking to herself that the girl really was a princess, but in disguise. And she had resolved that someday, she would dress as though she were a princess in disguise.
The little idiosyncrasies that only I know about: that's what made her my wife. Oh she had the goods on me too, she knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but they're not. Ah, that's the good stuff!
I was only 18 when I made 'A Taste Of Honey' in the city of Salford, where writer, Shelagh Delaney set it. She was about 19 when she wrote the play based on her experiences of life and what she observed in her community.
After the last screening [of "Selling Isobel" ] an 18-year-old girl came up to me and said, "Oh my God, I'm so naïve." I said, "No, you're not, you're just young." And she's so grateful for having seen it, because she's an actress and from now on she's going to take a friend with her to auditions and let her mom know exactly where she's going. That's a job done right there.
Claire. Wake up.” She blinked and realized that her head was on Shane’s shoulder, and Michael was nowhere to be seen. Her first thought was, Oh my God, am I drooling? Her second was that she hadn’t realized she was so close to him, snuggled in. Her third was that although Michael’s part of the couch was empty, Shane hadn’t moved away. And he was watching her with warm, friendly eyes. Oh. Oh, wow, that was nice.
If I see a now-28-year-old woman coming up to me, she's probably thinking of 'Juno' because she watched it with her parents when she was 18 years old.
Her education only made her unhappy thinking about it - that no matter how much she changed her life, she could not change the world that surrounded her.
Oh, she takes care of herself. She can wait if she wants. She's ahead of her time. Oh, and she never gives out. And she never gives in. She just changes her mind.
I always get ‘What’s wrong?’ or ‘Lighten up.’ Half the time, when guys tell me to smile, I’m not even frowning, I’m thinking! Then I’m like, Oh! Some men don’t want women to think! Do they all have walkie-talkies? Are they all in this together? Like, ‘OK, she’s thinking, someone say something. She’s reading, go distract her.’ It starts feeling like that sometimes, doesn’t it?
My mom was the only one who didn't bleach her skin. She was the one who kept her natural complexion. So yes, I consider her a role model. All of her other family members would say to us, 'Oh, your mom is so beautiful. She's lucky she kept her skin.' Those comments stayed with me.
And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she’d be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she’d boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she’d let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she’d wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed.
Oh, she just happened to be a friend of the producer's. Or, oh, they've been trying to get her from the beginning and she just had a spot open up. There are always little loopholes, so I don't take anything personally anymore.
All that Ruby said was so horribly true, she was leaving everything she cared for. She had laid up her treasures on earth only. She had lived solely for the little things of life, the things that pass, forgetting the great things that go onward into eternity bridging the gulf between the two lives and making of death a mere passing of one dwelling to the other. From twilight to unclouded day. ...it was no wonder her soul clung in blind helplessness to the only things she knew and loved.
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