A Quote by Veronica Rossi

Everyone feels lost and low. It's how a person acts that makes them different. — © Veronica Rossi
Everyone feels lost and low. It's how a person acts that makes them different.
Try not to get lost in comparing yourself to others. Discover your gifts and let them shine! Softball is amazing that way as a sport. Everyone on the field has a slightly different ability that makes them perfect for their position.
I like to investigate all different kinds of people, I guess, and find out what makes them who they are, and try to be honest in the portrayal, and truthful, and find out how to understand that person, how to communicate that person's experience.
The cynic makes fun of all earnestness; he makes fun of everything and everyone who feels that something can be done. . . . But in his heart of hearts he knows that he is a defeated man and that his cynicism is merely an expression of the fact that he has lost courage and is beaten.
Unless it's a soul-nourishing and breath-taking love, the kind that makes you wonder how you got along without them before you met them and makes you be a better, happier person, it is a waste of time. If the person cannot make you smile simply by thinking of them, they're not the one.
I lost my dad in 2009 and on my album 'Feels,' it's about all different feels.
To me, an untrained ear, a young person at the time, I would hear off the different feels, all these different sounds, and then years later realize that everyone had used the same equipment, just to their own ends.
I'm sure everyone feels this way, but it's hard to have a proper opinion of yourself or how things are or how you expected them to be or how far removed they are from how you expect them to be. On the one hand, you're extraordinarily grateful and terribly excited, but on the other, I stop and go, "I wonder what the future does hold."
Reading was a way to make friends or enemies, a way to discover how all these different people exist in the world and to rub shoulders with them. The ability to feel as if you have met someone, as if that person exists in flesh and blood and that you relate to them somehow, makes you feel a lot less lonely. And it also makes you feel very brave.
Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something. People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost. If you know someone who tries to drown their sorrows, you might tell them sorrows know how to swim.
Good sense is the most equitably distributed of all things because no matter how much or little a person has, everyone feels so abundantly provided with good sense that he feels no desire for more than he already possesses.
Everyone reads a different book. That's what's interesting. Everyone sees a different film, as well. We bring our past lives to whatever work of art we're experiencing at that moment, and that's what makes it interesting. It's not mathematics. There are different answers for different people.
I'm a product of the different - whether it be institutional racialism, whether it might be growing up in a low-income area, whether it might be, you know, coming from my mother, my father. I'm a totally different person from my mother and father, but once again I'm from them. We all have our different souls, but I'm from them.
Suppose that 'Unsolved Mysteries' called you with news of a long-lost identical twin. Would that suddenly make you less of a person, less of an individual? It is hard to see how. So, why would a clone be different? Your clone would be raised in a different era by different people - like the lost identical twin, only younger than you.
It's odd how different a house feels when one is alone in it. It makes it easier to think rather private thoughts.
There's something about music that makes me feel like a different person, that feels like an escape.
I was depressed. I knew I was lost, but I had no idea how to find myself again. It was as though I was a different person, an infuriating, disappointing yet indispensable person whose body was my only home.
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