D Parton Quotes

It's a good thing I was born a girl, otherwise I'd be a drag queen.

I wish back then I’d known the Dolly Parton joke: “I’m not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb. And I also know that I’m not blonde.

I make jokes about it, but it's the truth that I kind of patterned my look after the town tramp. I didn't know what she was, just this woman who was blond and piled her hair up, wore high heels and tight skirts, and, boy, she was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Momma used to say, "Aw, she's just trash," and I thought, That's what I want to be when I grow up. Trash.

She cared so much about her words, her creative expression, when what mattered to everyone else was the bottom line. Everything was a business--even art. She'd written the songs, but she wouldn't be able to truly own them. Not if she wanted the rest of the world to hear them.

She’d kept too many secrets and abandoned too many people, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.

I got dreams so big they'd scare some people.

Driven to insanity, driven to the edge Driven to the point of almost no return Driven to think awful thoughts, do awful things But at least I’d like to think I’ve learned I’m driven Driven to be smarter Driven to work harder Driven to be better everyday Driven to keep on and on To achieve the things I want I’ll be sorry if I don’t Make the most of livin’ I’m driven

I wish back then I’d known the Dolly Parton joke: “I’m not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb. And I also know that I’m not blonde.” My real hair color is black.

I knew I wasn't second best for Tim (just as I knew that in real life, Jolene's flaming locks and eyes of emerald green stood no change against the aces of spades that was Dolly Parton's chest), but it took some believing, because I'd been second best to my sister for most of my life. That shakes your faith in yourself.

No one could seem to think of me as both sexy and capable, or talented and hot. If I was sexy, they seemed to think I must be stupid. If I was hot, I couldn’t possibly be talented. I wish back then I’d known the Dolly Parton joke: “I’m not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb. And I also know that I’m not blonde.” My real hair color is black.

I was a reader, when I could get ahold of something to read, and literature showed me places I’d never seen. Another art form, though, showed me my own place: country music. Its sincere lyrics and familiar accent confirmed, with triumph and sorrow, that my home—invisible or ridiculed elsewhere in news and popular culture—deserved to be known, and that it was complicated and good.

Have you ever asked yourself what kind of story the story of your life is? I always thought mine would be a coming-of-age story. A small-town girl making it in the big city, like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl or Dolly Parton in 9 to 5. Sure, I’d struggle for everything I achieved, but in the end my plucky can-do attitude would ensure I’d triumph over whatever obstacles stood in my way. Like Legally Blonde or Pretty Woman or Pride and Prejudice, the story of my life would be an uplifting comedy, in turns fun and moving and aspirational. I’d be strong and spirited and a riot to be around. I’d be beautiful and smart and kids would love me. That’s what I thought. But now—looking down at the gun in my hands, feeling the heft of it, its cold reality in my palm—I’m not so sure I got the genre right. In fact I’m not even sure I’m the main character anymore.

Si nous partons du postulat que les hommes sont à éduquer, nous pouvons aussi bien dire que, manquant d'éducation, voire d'humanisme, il conviendrait de ne pas leur laisser les rênes du commandement de la chose publique.

Philosophie Les vacances en Roumanie étaient finies et nous étions de retour en France depuis deux jours environ. Nous n’étions pas encore retournés au travail, il nous restait une bonne semaine à profiter de l’oisiveté. Un jour, l’Accélérateur de particules, interrompit son programme atomique quotidien, s’approcha de ma meilleure moitié et lui demanda sur un ton sérieux : — Maman, c’était bien pour toi les vacances ? — Oui, mon chéri, bien sûr ! répondit mon épouse. — Bien, vraiment bien ? insista-t-il — Oui, mon chéri ! — Et papa aussi ? — Papa aussi ! Mais toi ? Pour toi aussi c’était bien ? dit mon épouse pour essayer de passer aux réponses. — Je me suis très bien senti ! sourit-il à pleines dents. — D’aaaccord... et alors pourquoi tu demandes ? — Ben, puisque c’était bien pour tout le monde, ne restons plus à la maison et partons dans d’autres vacances ! (Page 68 traduite par mes soins avec l’aimable accord des éditions Junimea et de l’auteur)

Drake song “Make Me Proud” with a direct invocation: “Double D up, hoes. Dolly Parton.

I knew I'd get the boys' attention, but I was always able to do that. But I like that, I like the attention. But not just from boys, I liked just having the attention of feeling like I was different and special.

Aussitôt cent guerriers, l’orgueil de la Gruyère, Jurent d’aller combattre aux rives du Jourdain. Les voilà réunis sous l’antique bannière. En partant, ils chantaient ce belliqueux refrain : Soldats du Christ, prenons les armes, Suivons la grue, allons, partons ! Vous qui restez, séchez vos larmes ; Si Dieu le veut, nous reviendrons. Il faut, aux champs de l’Idumée, Que les croisés gruyériens Aillent grossir la grandearmée Qui doit affranchir les chrétiens.

Aussitôt cent guerriers, l’orgueil de la Gruyère, Jurent d’aller combattre aux rives du Jourdain. Les voilà réunis sous l’antique bannière. En partant, ils chantaient ce belliqueux refrain : Soldats du Christ, prenons les armes, Suivons la grue, allons, partons ! Vous qui restez, séchez vos larmes ; Si Dieu le veut, nous reviendrons. Il faut, aux champs de l’Idumée, Que les croisés gruyériens Aillent grossir la grande armée Qui doit affranchir les chrétiens.

She was walking toward the beauty shop when Shay came out the door moving fast. The first thing Jill noticed was Shay’s hair and how it appeared really big. As Shay drew closer, Jill realized she looked like she was wearing a mask with big blue streaks over the eyes and giant red pouty lips. “What happened to you?” Jill asked in shock. “I’m not sure,” Shay said, looking just as stunned. “One minute, I was reading a magazine, and the next, two women that looked like Dolly Parton descended on me like vultures. They started putting stuff on my face, then they did all kinds of things to my hair.” Anne walked out of the shop next; her Napoleon hat ’do rode higher than ever. Ella followed with her little red hair ball reinflated. “Doesn’t Shay just look beautiful?” Ella chirped. She looked like a hooker who’d just survived a wind tunnel, but Jill nodded and tried to smile.

Another thing we loved to do was to catch June bugs and tie them to a string. I'm sure it was more fun for us than the poor weighted-down June bugs, but we had a ball flying what we called our “’lectric kites." You tried to get a real good fat June bug with a lot of lifting power. Sometimes you could just fantasize about him being able to lift you right off the ground to where you could soar up among the clouds and look down at the trees and the fields. That kind of blissful thought would sometimes come to a sudden halt when your June bug would sacrifice his leg in the name of freedom and buzz off across the pasture. In the blink of an eye you could go from being a kind of daring Smoky Mountain astronaut to being just a kid with a bug leg hanging from a piece of thread. I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly thank all of those five-legged June bugs for those dreams, fleeting though they may have been.

In Parton’s telling, the Village is “a permanent D.C. ruling class who has managed to convince themselves that they are simple, puritanical, bourgeois burghers and farmers, even though they are actually celebrity millionaires influencing the most powerful government on earth.”17 It’s not just the activist base of the left and the right who have recognized the widespread elite failure; more and more individual elites have broken ranks to acknowledge their own responsibility.

Double D up hoes, Dolly Parton