A Quote by Shirley Temple

At the end of the Depression, people were perhaps looking for something to cheer themselves up. They fell in love with a dog and a little girl. It won't happen again. — © Shirley Temple
At the end of the Depression, people were perhaps looking for something to cheer themselves up. They fell in love with a dog and a little girl. It won't happen again.
I class myself with Rin Tin Tin. People in the Depression wanted something to cheer them up, and they fell in love with a dog and a little girl.
I found a girl, fell in love, she had a baby, and i fell in love again.
Well, you know, there's depression and depression. What I mean by depression in my own case is that depression isn't just the blues. It's not just like I have a hangover in the weekend ... the girl didn't show up or something like that. It isn't that. It's not really depression, it's a kind of mental violence which stops you from functioning properly from one moment to the next. You lose something somewhere and suddenly you're gripped by a kind of angst of the heart and of the spirit.
People tend to set themselves up in patterns; something happens, it hurts them, then something similar happens, and - it's happened again! It seems much bigger then, and they get worried and go through life looking for that thing, and because they're so concerned and looking for it, when anything that happens resembles that thing, they're sure it's happening again. So sometimes people think things are repeating even when they're not.
I had a great many sex and love cases where people were absolutely devastated when somebody with whom they were compulsively in love didn't love them back. They were killing themselves with anxiety and depression.
She could ask for anything, she thought dizzily, anything--an end to pain or world hunger or disease, or for peace on earth. But then again, perhaps these things weren't in the power of angels to grant, or they would already have been granted. And perhaps people were supposed to find these things for themselves.
Happy endings must come at the end of something,' the Walrus pointed out. 'If they happen in the middle of a story, or an adventure, or the like, all they do is cheer things up for awhile.
My father is Spanish, and he went to Venezuela looking for a job. He was 20 something, and he fell in love with a Venezuelan girl. He owns a company there, producing iron and bronze.
I remember as a little girl I could tell you the name of the dog next door, but I couldn't tell you the names of the kids. The dog was my best friend. I love animals. They give so much to you and demand so little.
I was a dog man. I love dogs. I had a cat in my later years and fell in love with this little cat, but every kid should have a dog. There's no doubt about it. We've had a lot of fun with them.
I was this tiny, frail little girl, I needed to build up muscle, and I fell in love with dancing from the first lesson.
He was a clot looking for a place to happen, a splinter of bone hunting a soft organ to puncture, a lonely lunatic cell looking for a mate - they would set up housekeeping and raise themselves a cozy little malignant tumor.
I grew up in the Great Depression, and the jazz artists and Dixieland musicians were at the core of our communications and enjoyment. They were not passing fancies. They are something that is, and will be, listened to again and again. I have a space of reverence for some of those old jazz stars such as Sydney Bechet and Louis Armstrong.
Perhaps the saddest irony of depression is that suicide happens when the patient gets a little better and can again function sufficiently.
Why did it happen? The big dog got fed. And when the big dog was fed, the little dog even got some meat in there, too. Big dog owns the domain, but the little dog can go wherever he wants.
There was a lot of times when I was busking there were a lot of people in your face, like 'More, more! Go again, again, again!'... People were so used to be able to swipe to see something different to entertain themselves that the patience had diminished.
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