A Quote by Miguel de Cervantes

My heart is wax molded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to retain. — © Miguel de Cervantes
My heart is wax molded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to retain.
There is nothing enduring in the life of a woman except what she builds in a man's heart.
The thing I like most in my kitchen is my marble counters. Everybody said not to use marble because it's fragile, it stains, it cracks, and it doesn't remain beautiful. But I love marble.
She goes where she pleases. She appears unhoped for, uncalled for. She moves through doors and walls and windows. Her thoughts move through minds. She enters dreams. She vanishes and is still there. She knows the future and sees through flesh. She is not afraid of anything.
I demand the independence of woman, her right to support herself; to live for herself; to love whomever she pleases, or as many as she pleases. I demand freedom for both sexes, freedom of action, freedom in love and freedom in motherhood.
As far as inspiration is concerned, I only have one person - Madhubala. She was beautiful like a wax doll. And I just love her eye movement and those pure emotions which strike your heart.
I want to say unequivocally the Queen is magnificent. She is the enduring force, she is the glue that makes everyone feel good. She is beloved. I would rue the day when she may not be here.
I guess you could say that no matter what the characters are enduring, I try to make them retain their humanity. Their self-absorbed, grouchy, selfish, aggravating humanity.
The cat lives alone, has no need of society, obeys only when she pleases, pretends to sleep that she may see more clearly, and scratches everything on which she can lay her paw.
There is a proverb in the South that a woman laughs when she can, and weeps when she pleases.
It can’t eat him. I forbid it. (Artemis) She can do as she pleases. I taught her to waste not, want not. (Acheron)
The Girl of the Period, sauntering before one down Broadway, is one panorama of awful surprises from top to toe. Her clothes characterize her. She never characterizes her clothes. She is upholstered, not ornamented. She is bundled, not draped. She is puckered, not folded. She struts, she does not sweep. She has not one of the attributes of nature nor of proper art. She neither soothes the eye like a flower, nor pleases it like a picture. She wearies it like a kaleidoscope. She is a meaningless dazzle of broken effects.
The Gucci woman - you know what she’s after. The Saint Laurent woman - she’s going to torture you a little bit. You might have sex, but she will drip a little hot wax on you first.
My daughter, when she was a week old, was diagnosed with congenital heart disease. For the past thirteen years, she's had four major heart surgeries. She's a candidate for - and must have - heart replacement surgery in order to have a long life.
She looked much younger than her age, indeed, which is almost always the case with women who retain serenity of spirit, sensitiveness and pure sincere warmth of heart to old age.
I still remember the time when I visited the wax museum in London. While there were statues of many sports personalities, including that of Sachin Tendulkar, I didn't see a wax figure of any hockey player. I was a little disappointed at that time, and I hoped that one day, at least in India, someone would make a wax statue of a hockey player.
If art made you think, then this was Art. Staring at the ball, made of layers and layers of cloth, I wondered about the glass marble at its heart. What if you wanted to reach that marble? Make sure it was still whole? You'd have to remove the layers. You'd have to risk breaking the ball for a chance at freeing it. Fear, knowledge, certainty - you'd have to be willing to let them all go.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!