A Quote by Liana Liberato

Theater is the only thing I always came back to. When I was 9, I asked my mom if I could be on TV. She was like, "Well, okay. You can try." — © Liana Liberato
Theater is the only thing I always came back to. When I was 9, I asked my mom if I could be on TV. She was like, "Well, okay. You can try."
When I was 9, I asked my mom if I could be on TV. She was like, 'Well, okay. You can try.'
Mom's eyes held yours for a moment. 'I don't like or dislike the kitchen. I cooked because I had to. I had to stay in the kitchen so you could all eat and go to school. How could you only do what you like? There are things you have to do whether you like it or not.' Mom's expression asked, What kind of question is that? And then she murmured, 'If you only do what you like, who's going to do what you don't like?
When I was seven, I asked my mom if I could be on TV, and she said if I really wanted to, I could. I got an agent and booked my first audition.
Amber, you could never embarrass me." "Never?" she asked. "Never." "One time, I yelled across the store to Mom and asked her if she wanted the regular or the super-absorbent tampons. I added that, according to the box, the super-absorbent were for those heavy days. Then I asked her to rate her heaviness on a scale of one to ten." "Okay, you could." "Then while we were standing in line, I asked her why she was buying three boxes of Summer's Eve in the middle of winter." I set her at arm's length. "Wow." "I know, right? I had no idea a person could turn so red.
I get asked that a lot and I always go back to my mom's, 'No one has the right to beat you.' I take that to every venue that I'm in. She would say, 'Someone has to be the best in the world, why not you?' I always try to keep that in mind.
I was like, 'I'm only going to do musical theater for the rest of my life. I'm never going to do TV.' And whenever I'd get auditions for TV, I'd be like, 'Okay, whatever. I've got a lisp, so they're not going to take me.' And then I started doing this, and I guess it was my sister that got me into the acting thing.
I told my mom for years that I wanted to be a manicurist, and she'd always be like, 'But what if you went to college and you got a degree?' She'd try to explain how I could actually do a thing that would make me a ton of money, or that I didn't have to just pick the business that was closest to our house.
If my mom said, 'You better not do this!' I'm not one of those people who go, 'Well, I'm definitely going to do that.' I always thought, 'Okay, mom. I probably don't want to do that. She's probably looking out for me.' If it's someone who says, 'You'll never make it,' I'll just do what's in my heart. It's what I've always done.
Initially, the only thing that mattered to me - I was too young to understand the politics of the day - was that there was a woman who was covering the NFL. I asked my mom if I could be a sportscaster when I grew up. My mom was an adventurous spirit herself. Much to my mom's credit, she said, "Yes, you can." It didn't matter to her that no other women were doing it at the time. It didn't matter to her that there was a double standard. It just mattered that her daughter had a dream and she was going to help her pursue that.
What can we do?" Mom asked again. I shrugged. But she kept asking, as if there were something she could do, until I just kind of crawled across the couch into her lap and my dad came over and held my legs really tight and I wrapped my arms all the way around my mom's middle and they held on to me for hours while the tide rolled in.
I would leave school and go to my theater class, and that's when I'd actually sit down and listen. I wouldn't pay attention in school, or I'd sing in class and get in trouble - I'd always get in trouble. Theater is the only thing I always came back to.
I remember watching Margaret Cho with my grandmother on TV. She was my hero, not only because she was funny, but because she showed me that it's okay to be yourself, that it's okay to be a brash yellow girl and to be a strong and brave woman.
When feeling came back, in a storm of color and force and sensation, the most you could do was hold on to the person beside you and hope you could weather it. Alex closed her eyes and expected the worst-but it wasn't a bad thing; it was just a different thing. A messier one, more complicated one. She hesitated, and then she kissed Patrick back, willing to concede that you might have to lose control before you could find what you'd been missing.
My mom has always said that the one thing she wishes she had done differently is have a job. She felt like the single-mindedness made her a little nuts sometimes, and she could have used an outlet for herself when we were little.
In Atlanta, my mom came and came downstairs and we were talking like behind the crowd. People from the crowd saw me and started running towards me, asking for pictures and stuff. This girl asked for a picture, and after she got it, she passed out.
I did improv classes just like any kid would do soccer or gymnastics or swimming. At one of my showcases, my manager came to my mom and said, 'We would like to represent your daughter.' My mom asked me that night if I would like to actually act, and I said, 'Why not? I'll give it a try!'
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