A Quote by Shelley Duvall

For a while we lived in a tent we'd pitched inside his parents' house and we slept on pillows. — © Shelley Duvall
For a while we lived in a tent we'd pitched inside his parents' house and we slept on pillows.
I'm trying to figure out how to record at home because I have a tiny house and a seven-year-old and my wife also works at home. So I can't work in the house because she's trying to write, so I pitched a tent in the backyard. I'm literally trying to record in the tent.
I don't know what art is, but I do know what it isn't. And it isn't someone walking around with a salmon over his shoulder or embroidering the name of everyone they have slept with on the inside of a tent.
The rugs that I picked out and the pillows with the little owls, sort of like whimsical throw pillows - I feel like you can never enough whimsical throw pillows in your house, in your life. My husband probably disagrees.
I would literally climb out of the cradle while my parents slept, go and crawl off. I did this a couple of times apparently. I'd cross the road and into someone's house, wake them up banging pots and pans in the kitchen.
With the wings of a bird and the heart of a man he compass'd his flight, And the cities and seas, as he flew, were like smoke at his feet. He lived a great life while we slept, in the dark of the night, And went home by the mariners' road, down the stars' empty street.
I once rented the Georgian town house that Jane Austen lived in down by the Holburne Museum - so I lived in Jane Austen's house, and slept in Jane Austen's bedroom. You can walk along these Georgian streets and it's like you're in a Jane Austen period drama.
The outsiders have become kings and queens of the castle. It is a whole lot easier to sit outside the tent and throw firecrackers inside; it is much, much harder to sit inside the tent and govern not only your enemies, but your close friends as well.
Better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.
In the end dreams became his life, and his whole life thereafter took a strange turn: one might say he slept while waking and watched while asleep.
My parents lived, breathed, ate and slept theatre. Emotions were right on the surface. Growing up, the unreal had as much importance as the real.
The first Mardi Gras I went to, I stayed at the Tulane AE Pi house on Broadway. Slept on a pool table one night, slept under it the next.
A hotel, he told me, was a big house where a lot of people lived and ate and slept, but no one knew each other. He said that described most families in the outside world.
I think the Women's March is actually reflective of this idea that you can create a big tent, but that doesn't mean the people inside of the tent are going to agree on everything. In fact, they might have very public fights about the things that they don't agree with.
Back in Oklahoma, we always spent our vacations fishing. The kids slept in the cars while the grownups slept on the riverbank.
My father had a lot of allergies, and he just didn't like the cold of Chicago, and his father - his parents had broken up when he was young, and his father had lived in Pasadena for a while, and he kind of fell in love with Southern California.
Everyone loved my father. He was so nice that people took advantage of him. We were lower middle class. I slept in the hallway on a cot that rolled away during the day, and my younger brother and sister slept in my parents' room. My goal as a kid was to someday have my own room and to own a car - and I wanted to be able to take care of my parents.
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