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Quote by Rose McGowan

“When I was in the Cult of Hollywood, I'd put myself down and say In had useless talents. [...] but it wasn't my official job, so to my mind it was a useless talent. [...] but I never pursued it as an additional career because it was what others did professionally, not me. No one told me I could do whatever I wanted to.”

Quote by Rose McGowan

Book:Brave

Work

Brave

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Author

Rose McGowan
Rose McGowan

Rose McGowan, born on September 5, 1973, is a renowned American film actress. She has gained acclaim for her outstanding performances in several notable films, such as the 'Scream' franchise and 'Lost'. more

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Author:Ayn Rand

“… ze všeho nejvíc ji v tu chvíli skličovala nezbytná myšlenka: “Co kdybych ale nemusela umřít! Co kdybych mohla žít, ta nekonečnost! A tohle všechno by bylo moje! Každou minutu bych proměnila ve věčnost, nic bych nepropásla, každý okamžik bych na vážkách odvažovala, ani chviličku bych nepromarnila!” Říkal, že nakonec ji z té myšlenky popadla taková zlost, že už si přála, aby ji někdo zastřelil co nejdřív.”

“Before Marco could respond, the low hum of the backup systems faltered, flickering off momentarily, plunging the cafeteria into silence. The crowd froze, and then the red emergency lights flared back on, dimmer than before. A wave of unease rippled through the room. “What now?” Marco muttered, his hand brushing the edge of the table as if for support. Then the voice came. It was faint at first, a whisper carried on an invisible wind. But it grew quickly, overlapping into a cacophony of fragmented words and phrases, echoing from every direction. “Too many… too much…” “Falling… the stars… no, no, no…” “I can’t… hold… where… where are you…?” The cafeteria erupted into chaos. People clutched their heads or dropped to their knees, covering their ears as if trying to block out the sound. Some screamed, others whimpered, and a few simply stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale. Marco turned to Berta, shouting over the noise. “What’s going on? Is this the Logista? Is it them?” Berta didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the center of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something about the voice sent a chill down her spine. Then, with a sound like distant thunder, the echoes ceased. The room fell silent, save for the sound of ragged breathing and muffled sobs. The crowd stood motionless, their eyes darting around, waiting for something else to happen. And then it did. A flash of light burst into existence at the center of the room, so bright it forced everyone to shield their eyes. When it subsided, a figure lay crumpled on the floor, smoke rising faintly from their form. Marco’s breath caught. “Ereban?”

“Japan and Hong Kong are steadily whittling away at the last of the elephants, turning their tusks (so much more elegant left on the elephant) into artistic carvings. In much the same way, the beautiful furs from leopard, jaguar, Snow leopard, Clouded leopard and so on, are used to clad the inelegant bodies of thoughtless and, for the most part, ugly women. I wonder how many would buy these furs if they knew that on their bodies they wore the skin of an animal that, when captured, was killed by the medieval and agonizing method of having a red-hot rod inserted up its rectum so as not to mark the skin.”