A Quote by Richard Ashcroft

I love my cracked eyes. — © Richard Ashcroft
I love my cracked eyes.
If you took a cracked pot and you cracked that cracked pot, you'd be approaching the level of cracked pottery we are talking about here.
I always say, 'I'm cracked. My characters are cracked. And you, reader, you're cracked, too.'
I had five black eyes. I have a cracked rib. I have scars that are just amazing.
Granny Sheeran told me when I'm looking for a partner to fall in love with their eyes cause eyes are the only things that don't age, so if you fall in love with their eyes you'll be in love forever.
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
Winning games, titles and championships isn't all it's cracked up to be, but getting there, the journey, is a lot more than it's cracked up to be.
The mirror that Strindberg held up to Nature was a cracked one. It was cracked in a double sense -- it was crazy. It gave back broken images of a world which it made look like the chaos of a lunatic dream.
Love is everything it's cracked up to be
His eyes made a slow scan of my closet doors, which were cracked. “I thought I heard something.” “Yeah, well, guess what? I’m a living, breathing person, and every now and then I make noise!
If there is a true measure of a person's soul, if there is a single gauge of real divinity, of how beautifully a fellow human honors this life, has genuine spiritual fire and is full of honest love and compassion, it has to be right there, in the eyes. The Dalai Lama's eyes sparkle and dance with laughter and unbridled love. The Pope's eyes are dark and glazed, bleak as obsidian marbles. Pat Robertson's eyes are rheumy and hollow, like tiny potholes of old wax. Goldman Sachs cretins, well, they don't use their own eyes at all; they just steal someone else's.
Fusion power is speculative and experimental. I think it is reckless to assume that the fusion problem will be cracked, but I'm happy to estimate how much power fusion could deliver, if the problems are cracked.
Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns.
I paused in the act of opening the door and looked at him with what were probably cartoon-wide eyes. "Wait a second," I said. "So, you're best friends with a hot vampire chick who likes leather." "Yeah." "And together, you fight crime?" I couldn't help it. I cracked up.
It was the eyes. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one person looked at another, the way eyes communicated and spoke when the lips never moved.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
The only obsession everyone wants: 'love.' People think that in falling in love they make themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you're whole before you begin. And the love fractures you. You're whole, and then you're cracked open.
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