A Quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
When a thought of Plato becomes a thought to me,--when a truth that fired the soul of Pindar fires mine, time is no more. When I feel that we two meet in a perception, that our two souls are tinged with the same hue, and do as it were run into one, why should I measure degrees of latitude, why should I count Egyptian years?
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Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable, but her story and mine are different now. It wasn't easy for me to accept this simple truth, because there was a time when our stories were the same, but that was six years and two lifetimes ago.
I have found that fate is as liquid and elusive a word as love. Plato thought they were the same ... Novalis wrote that fate and soul are two names for the same principle.
I never in a million years thought I would be starring in Hairspray, ever. Because if you think about my past, it's been 30 years of playing a macho leading man, so when I was offered it, I said: "Why? Why me? What have I done to deserve that you think I should do this?" After much convincing, over a year and two months, I was convinced they wanted to make a great movie.
Why is one a slave to thought ? Why has thought become so important in all our lives -thought being ideas, being the response to the accumulated memories in the brain cells? Perhaps many of you have not even asked such a question before, or if you have you may have said, "it's of very little importance- what is important is emotion." But I don't see how you can separate the two. If thought does not give continuity to feeling, feeling dies very quickly. So why in our daily lives, in our grinding, boring, frightened lives, has thought taken on such inordinate importance?
Why should the Eisenhower memorial be over twice the size of WWII Memorial? Why should it be so vast as to comfortably house two Lincoln Memorials, two Washington Monuments, and two Jefferson Memorials - all six at once?
I thought I'd begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare, but then I thought, why should I? He never reads any of mine.
I should learn to run, to wrestle, to swim, to ride horses, to row, to drive a car, to fire a rifle. I should fill my soul with flesh. I should fill my flesh with soul. In fact, I should reconcile at last within me the two internal antagonists.
But we should ask the question: Why should a writer be more than a writer? Why should a writer be a guru? Why are we supposed to be psychiatrists? Isn't it enough to write and tell the truth? It's not like telling the truth is common. Writers are the earthworms of society. We aerate the soil. That's enough.
Why Me? Why You? Why His? Why Hers, Why Mine? or Why Theirs? It should be We and Ours.
Why is it that when I did a weird dress in the past, people were like, 'Oh, it's niche,' and why when I do a pair of jeans that are super cool, it's much more accessible, but I enjoy doing it? I enjoy the mix of those two things. I realized that quite late, actually. I'm going to really try to express those two things at the same time, because this is me.
Why should it be thought incredible that the same soul should inhabit in succession an indefinite number of moral bodies? Even during this one life our bodies are perpetually changing, through a process of decay and restoration; which is so gradual that it escapes our notice. Every human being thus dwells successively in many bodies, even during one short life.
Some of my biggest complaints about acting in television were that I was always wearing a tight dress or pencil skirt, and I was always wearing heels. I thought, "This sucks! Why, because I'm a woman, does it mean I always have to wear this same outfit and this same hairdo, and spend the same two hours in hair and make-up, and the guys get to be there two hours after me?" I remember being mildly offended by that.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true.
There seems no reason why patriotism and narrowness should go together, or why intellectual impartiality should be confounded with political trimming, or why serviceable truth should keep cloistered be a cause not partisan.
Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable list!), but one of these days there'll be nothing left with which to venture forth. Why should I share you? Why don't you get rid of someone else for a change?
There are two births: the one when light, First strikes the new awakened sense; The other when two souls unite, And we must count our life from thence, When you loved me and I loved you, Then both of us were born anew.
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