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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I beg you be persuaded that no one would be more zealous than myself to establish effectual barriers against the horrors of spiritual tyranny, and every species of religious persecution.”

“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

“I beg you. With all my heart and soul, I beg you. Please be happy. The truth is, there are no scales to balance, we can all be happy. I beg you, please be happy, your story exists, instead of the billions upon billions upon billions of other stories that could have been lived. Through whatever means, even though it can be hard, or even close to impossible, be happy, somehow, be happy.”

“I beg your pardon, but don’t cry for me, Argentina. A little rain’s bound to fall on those roses of yours—a dribble, a drizzle, a deluge. Think you’re the only one with wet flowers? A tear rolls down my cheek and some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying trickles out with it. Why me? Why pain? Why suffering? Why heartache? Because we’re a forgetful bunch, always busy with the daily grind. We overlook the good things until we’re confronted with the bad. There but for the grace of God...and all that jazz. Life is how we measure it. And people have different currencies. Some are tangible. Others are carried in your heart. Like the woman beside me, I’ve been dwelling on what I’ve lost, not what I have. Her riches vanished in a moment. Mine, thankfully, remain — wonderful childhood memories, a caring husband, a baby on the way. Wet roses? They’ll dry. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the rest of my garden.”

“I beg your pardon?” Catherine interrupted. “Are you implying that women have poor judgment?” “In these matters, yes.” Leo gestured to Christopher. “Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?” “I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?” “In this family,” Cam interrupted, “there is no requirement of a university degree to prove one’s intelligence. Lord Ramsay is a perfect example of how one has nothing to do with the other.”

“I beg your pardon for questioning your judgement," she said. "It is nothing to me, after all, if it proves faulty. I am not the one responsible for the Marquess of Atherton's heir and sole offspring. I am not the one who will be toppled from my pedestal if the world learns I have not only permitted but encouraged my nephew to associate with the most shocking persons. I am not the one who-" "I wish you were the one who had heard of the rule Silence is Golden," he said.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Cross, but in this conversation, you are superfluous." He gave her his most frightening stare. "I assure you, I am anything but that." "Am I right in understanding that you have neither the time nor the inclination to speak to me at this particular moment?" She had backed him into a corner. "Yes." She smiled. "There it is, then. As I find myself with both, I believe I shall begin my research now. Without you." She turned her back on him.”

“I began a new project: a photo-essay about the Occupy Wall Street movement that was overtaking Manhattan. Inspired, I snapped hundreds of photographs, wanting to document this singular moment in New York’s pulsing body, watching people flooding the sidewalks like human rivers, converging at the green park as one ocean. I took shots of the sharpest signs and strangest masks; the angry bankers in their crisp blue button-downs; the lines of bored-faced cops, slouching with thick arms crossed. And peering through my viewfinder, I learned the skill of noticing more deeply; I felt a thrill—a new civil affinity budding in my dreams and in the brick-and-mortar city, simultaneously: that we, the people, were awakening to the truth that a bundle of twigs is inconceivably strong.”

“I began as a dramatist in the theater, so I'm always thinking about how a story moves, what it looks like, how to engage the senses, how dialogue sounds, what feels authentic and sounds real, what's funny, how to build distinctive and original characters - all the aspects of playwriting, scene-building, the architecture of dramatizing.”