A Quote by Lucy Punch

I remember I had a boyfriend a long time ago who said, 'You need to change your name; you sound like a circus performer.' — © Lucy Punch
I remember I had a boyfriend a long time ago who said, 'You need to change your name; you sound like a circus performer.'
There was an old, crazy dude who used to live a long time ago. His name was Lord Buckley. And he said, a long time ago, he said, 'People--they'r e kinda like flowers, and it's been a privilege walking in your garden.' My love goes with you.
Your boyfriend and Micah will both be speechless." I unfastened my seatbelt. "That's the third time I've heard 'your boyfriend.' What's going on about that? Why won't anyone say Brayden's name?" Neither of them answered right away. Finally, Jill said sheepishly, "Because none of us can remember it." "Oh, come on! I'd expect that from Adrian but not you guys. It's not that weird of a name." "No," admitted Eddie. "But there's just something so...I don't know. Unmemorable about him. I'm glad he makes you happy, but I just start to tune out whenever he talks.
I don't really read the reviews, but I remember one a long time ago I read that said that I had a face like a potato.
Not long ago someone said I should shorten it to just Emma. But I really, really love my name. From as far as I can remember, my parents have taught me to be really proud of my name.
Some time ago," he said, "--how long it seems! -- I remember saying to a young friend of mine of the name of Spiller, 'Comrade Spiller, never confuse the unusual with the impossible.' It is my guiding rule in life.
I remember doing stand-up at an open mic a long time ago, and the MC was like, 'Who's next?' I said, 'Marietta Sirleaf,' and he was like, 'What?' And I was like, 'Ugh, okay, just Retta.' It stuck with me ever since.
Can you at least tell us what these Sevens look like?" He said "could we pick one out in a crowd?" "A long time ago, they used to appear wearing robes and golden girtles," Ivy explained. "They sound like losers," Xavier muttered.
People have said to me, 'Why don't you change your name?' And I've said, 'Fine, come up with a better name and we'll change it.' But no one has done that.
When I was a kid I joined the circus. I did that. It is true. But it's not like you think. There was a guy, he had his own circus. His name was Carol Jacobs and he owned it. It was a small thing.
I just had some of the same journalists that panned Electric Circus at the time, they just listened to Universal Mind Control and they loved it. And then they went back to tell me that Electric Circus, if it came out at today, it would've had a different reception. One of them told me, "Hey, man. You need to bring it out again." And I said, "Hey, it's cool. It is what it is."
I once had a boyfriend who couldn't write unless he was wearing a necktie and a dress shirt, which I thought was really weird, because this was a long time ago, and no one I knew ever wore dress shirts, let alone neckties; it was like he was a grown-up reenacter or something.
My grandmother told me a long time ago, 'I don't care if you're sweeping a porch for a living.' She said, 'You need to do your best.' So I've lived by that every single day.
When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, "What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?" "They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said. "Go to sleep, now." But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods,… She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
People like to warn you that by the time you reach the middle of your life, passion will begin to feel like a meal eaten long ago, which you remember with great tenderness.
It's an ethical pact I've made with myself and with the reader - not to invent. And when I can't remember, I say I can't remember. I'm just appalled by the memoirs published by people who regurgitate dialogue, conversations from when they were small children, and they go on for three or four pages. I can't even remember what we said to each other ten minutes ago! How can I remember what was said sixty years ago? It's not possible.
Think of me, think of me fondly When we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while Please promise me, you'll try. Recall those days, look back on all those times, Think of those things we'll never do. There will never be a day When I won't think of you. Can it be? Can it be Christine? Long ago, it seems so long ago, How young and innocent we were. She may not remember me But I remember her.
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