Christoph Waltz Quotes

Just because you don’t have a burning passion for your job, does not automatically mean something is missing for you.

Just stick with it. When you keep going regardless, then that’s true perseverance right there.

What keeps you going is stubbornness, economic necessity, or simply endurance. Passion will, at most, lead to frustration, but not to perseverance. For that, you don’t need passion, you need persistence.

Not everyone can stick it, to live their passion. And secondly, not everything is connected to passion. And third, not everyone might have these kinds of passion, so you can’t just make them appear out of thin air.

You can be an anonymous observer all your life, but then you never get the platform to transform those observations into art, or whatever it is you want to transform it into. And that’s a lamentable paradox, because it’s the reason the entertainment industry is so hermetic. It closes itself off from the world it wants to talk about.

Around the glade this pair of woodland nymphs danced. He swept her in a waltz to a duet that was sometimes off tune, sometimes rent with giggling and laughter as they made their own music. A breathless Erienne fell to a sun-dappled hummock of deep, soft moss, and laughing for the pure thrill of the day, she spread her arms, creating a comely yellow-hued flower on the dark green sward while seeming every bit as fragile as a blossom to the man who watched her. With bliss-bedazzled eyes, she gazed through the treetops overhead where swaying branches, bedecked in the first bright green of spring, caressed the underbellies of the freshlet zephyrs, and the fleecy white clouds raced like frolicking sheep across an azure lea. Small birds played courting games, and the earlier ones tended nests with single-minded perseverance. A sprightly squirrel leapt across the spaces, and a larger one followed, bemused at the sudden coyness of his mate. Christopher came to Erienne and sank to his knees on the thick, soft carpet, then bracing his hands on either side of her, slowly lowered himself until his chest touched her bosom. For a long moment he kissed those blushing lips that opened to him and welcomed him with an eagerness that belied the once-cool maid. Then he lifted her arm and lay beside her, keeping her hand in his as he shared her viewpoint of the day. They whispered sweet inanities, talked of dreams, hopes, and other things, as lovers are wont to do. Erienne turned on her side and taking care to keep her hand in the warm nest, ran her other fingers through his tousled hair. “You need a shearing, milord,” she teased. He rolled his head until he could look up into those amethyst eyes. “And does my lady see me as an innocent lamb ready to be clipped?” At her doubtful gaze, he questioned further. “Or rather a lusting, long-maned beast? A zealous suitor come to seduce you?” Erienne’s eyes brightened, and she nodded quickly to his inquiry. “A love-smitten swain? A silver-armored knight upon a white horse charging down to rescue you?” “Aye, all of that,” she agreed through a giggle. She came to her knees and grasped his shirt front with both hands. “All of that and more.” She bent to place a honeyed kiss upon his lips, then sitting back, spoke huskily. “I see you as my husband, as the father of my child, as my succor against the storm, protector of my home, and lord of yonder manse. But most of all, I see you as the love of my life.” -Erienne & Christopher

Feeling the hairs on her nape prickle with awareness, Beatrix sent a quick glance around the room. Her gaze was immediately caught by a pair of cool gray eyes. Christopher was staring at her, unsmiling. Chickering gracefully pulled her into the waltz. Following the completion of one turn, Beatrix glanced over her shoulder, but Christopher was no longer staring at her. In fact, he didn’t glance at her even once after that. Beatrix forced herself to laugh and dance with Chickering, while privately reflecting that there was nothing so trying as pretending you were happy when you weren’t. Discreetly she watched Christopher, who was inundated with women who wanted to flirt with him and men who wanted to hear war stories. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to associate with the man whom many were calling England’s most celebrated war hero. Christopher bore it all with equanimity, looking composed and courteous, occasionally flashing a charming smile. “It’s hard for a fellow to challenge that,” Chickering told Beatrix dryly, nodding in Christopher’s direction. “Fame, great wealth, and a full head of hair. And one can’t even despise him, because he singlehandedly won the war.” Beatrix laughed and gave him a mock-pitying glance. “You’re no less impressive than Captain Phelan, Mr. Chickering.” “By what measure? I wasn’t in the military, and I have neither fame nor great wealth.” “But you do have a full head of hair,” Beatrix pointed out. Chickering grinned. “Dance with me again, and you can view my abundant tresses at your leisure.” “Thank you, but I’ve already danced with you twice, and any more would be scandalous.” “You have broken my heart,” he informed her, and she laughed. “There are many delightful ladies here who would be happy to mend it,” she said. “Please go and favor them--a gentleman who dances as well as you should not be monopolized.