A Quote by Rosie Perez

For some reason, I always thought I was special. And for some reason, I always thought that I had a purpose in life: that I was supposed to contribute to the world. — © Rosie Perez
For some reason, I always thought I was special. And for some reason, I always thought that I had a purpose in life: that I was supposed to contribute to the world.
I dare say, ladies and gentlemen, it's even worse in some people, it's worse than the mistake they make in just assuming that there is the world and everything in it, and then there's America. And this one special place just happened. No thought's given to how. No thought's given to replicating it, even. No, that's where it gets even worse. Where it gets even worse is that some of those who look at the United States for what it is, special, no place like it on earth. Want to tear it down for that specific reason just because it's unfair.
For some reason I have always felt at home here at Inter and this is why I have never thought of leaving.
I was never an assimilationist. I always thought gays had some special mission.
For some reason I've always had an irrational love for New York. There's no reason that you would necessarily like it on paper. It's very expensive.
There are so many fantastic roles, but the ones that have always drawn me to them are the loners who, for whatever reason, never quite fit in and knew it and had to find their own way. I've always been drawn to that, for some reason. I've always been drawn to that sad, isolated place, but what it produces in behavior is something else, entirely. For whatever reason, I'm drawn to these people. Essentially, I think what draws me is that they are survivors against rather considerable odds.
I always had this idea that, 'Sure, I wished I was a boy and felt more like a boy and all of that.' But I wasn't, so I would deal with it. And I for some reason thought there were other lesbians that felt that way and that was just part of that community.
Growing up during the Cold War period, I always found that, although we always thought that the world would end in some sort of nuclear holocaust, at some point, everybody was pretty hopeful.
With relationships, I always had a reason why some time in the future would be better for me than it was that day. When I was fat, I thought I'd feel pretty when I was thin, and when I was thin, I thought I'd be happier if I was more toned and muscular and had more money to look more coordinated. I wasn't comfortable in my own skin unless there was a man there to tell me just how radiant that skin looked. I was a victim of low self-esteem and had the Soon syndrome bad. I was running toward a brighter future, unaware of the mirages I'd created in the distance.
I'd always thought I was pretty healthy and I always thought I had worked hard in the gym and it turns out that what I thought was hard, in Catwoman's world, is actually light to moderate.
I thought of something my old coach at Staunton had often said: 'We win some, we lose some, and some get rained out; but we always suit up.'
You always have to prove yourself. I always thought I had to go beyond things to get great grades. When I was applying for college, even though I knew I was going to play soccer, I always knew I had to do something above and beyond and not give anyone a reason not to overlook me.
All of us suffer some injuries from experiences that seem to have no rhyme or reason. We cannot understand or explain them. We may never know why some things happen in this life. The reason for some of our suffering is known only to the Lord.
I was at Live Aid the original, looking like Rolf Harris for some reason. I had a really long beard that day for some reason.
I see no reason to stop writing. But the reason isn't always one of your own. The mind is not invulnerable, and it can lose some of its powers.
Everyone had some defect, or body or of mind: he thought of all the people he had known (the whole world was like a sick house and there was no rhyme or reason in it), he saw a long procession, deformed in body, warped in mind, some with illness of the flesh, weak hearts or weak lungs, and some with illness of the spirit, languor of will, or craving for liquor. At that moment he felt a holy compassion for them all. …The words of the dying God crossed his memory: Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
It's funny because I went to a predominantly white school, but for some reason they always picked the musicals that were supposed to be done by totally black casts.
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