Lee Miller Quotes

We talked about how sad and miserable we are and how we feel guilty about it because we have so much to be grateful for. We watched "Dance Moms" until we fell asleep. Between Abby Lee Miller's abusive tactics and the intensity of the parents, we relate deeply.

Every child in South Florida can dance. And every child there is amazing.

She's a mystery, a cipher, something nearly extinct these days: a person not controlled by ambition or greed or a crass need for attention, but by a desire to experience life completely and to make life a little easier for the people around her

It is culture that is the bully." Orn Ald yos'Senchul to Theo Waitley, Saltation

Courtship is romantic. Marriage ... is an act of will," said Pippa, taking a sip of water. "I mean, I adore Herb. But the marriage functions because we will it to. If you leave love to hold everything together, you can forget it.

Con el tiempo he descubierto que, cuando la gente ordinaria lee las palabras “hombre-lobo” en una revista o un diario, por lo general se sonríen. Sonríen, porque en su fuero interno saben que tal cosa no existe. -Nikolai Valinchenko-

Poetry without truth, is like a rose without thorns. Still pretty, But sometime the real beauty comes from the things that can make us bleed.

The strength of a kingdom comes from its King, The strength of a King comes from his Queen.

Forgiving unforgivable things is real forgiveness. Loving unlovable things is real love. Seeing someone’s inner most monster and choosing to stay is true loyalty. (It’s not something everyone can do)

The only way to truly win, is to risk losing.

He wasn’t a beardless Jake Gyllenhaal. He was Jake plus Cary Grant plus Captain VonTrapp, with a little of Jonny Lee Miller’s Mr. Knightley thrown in for good measure.

She looked like Lee Miller if Lee Miller had been a bedroom drunk.

In a world of weeds, she was a wildflower. In a world of prose, her voice was poetry, In a world of darkness, she was light, In a world of indifference, she cared, In a world of flaws, she was perfect, In my life of nothing, she was my world.

Being a people is hard.

Comprehension is the ability to follow an explanation. Understanding is the ability to be able to lead if needed.

They say it takes a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye, Fill your life with the people who you want to spend forever saying goodbye to.

The wounds on my heart are packed with broken promises, blood and stardust. I won’t lie, it fucking hurts. But it’s worth it to carry bits of you with me.

I am all styles yet I am no style," said Bruce Lee.

Who the hell is Warren Ellis again?” Hardison gaped at the man. “Only one of the greatest comics writers in the past twenty years. Might as well ask who Alan Moore is, or Frank Miller, or Mark Waid, or Brian Michael Bendis, or Marv Wolfman, or Geoff Johns.” Eliot gave Hardison a blank look as they wove their way through the hall. Parker took the lead, toting a printed sign with her. Eliot and Hardison trailed in her wake. They made a point of striding right past Patronus’s booth. They didn’t turn to see if he noticed them. “No one?” Hardison said. “Nothing? Not even Kurt Busiek? Neil Gaiman?” “I have a life. I do things, active things. I date women.” “Stan Lee?” Eliot gave Hardison that one with a wag of his head. “Who hasn’t heard of Stan Lee?” “All right,” Hardison said with satisfaction. “You had me worried there, man.

We pick at scabs of a bleeding heart because we don’t want time to carry on and allow the wound to heal and scar over, we wish to perpetuate, prolong, and preserve the last time they were close to us, before they walked away.

Holding no hand is hard, but holding the wrong one is harder. My body, quite literally, has rejected him. He plants tumors in my mind and in my child-making bits. If I cannot trust him with my cervix, I cannot trust him with my heart.

January 14: Marilyn draws up a new will, removing Arthur Miller as her beneficiary and substituting Lee Strasberg, with bequests to Marianne Kris, a small trust for her mother, and gifts to Michael Chekhov’s widow and Patricia Rosten.

My father was neither an ally nor a confidant, but it seemed backward to me that this hardworking man would be relegated to the sofa while my lazy mother got the king-size bed. I resented her for that, but she seemed immune to guilt and shame. I think she got away with so much because she was beautiful. She looked like Lee Miller if Lee Miller had been a bedroom drunk. I assume she blamed my father for ruining her life—she got pregnant and dropped out of college to marry him. She didn’t have to, of course. I was born in August 1973, seven months after Roe v. Wade. Her family was the country club brand of alcoholic Southern Baptists—Mississippi loggers on one side, Louisiana oilmen on the other—or else, I assumed, she would have aborted me. My father was twelve years older than my mother. She’d been just nineteen years old and already four months pregnant when they got married. I’d figured that out as soon as I could do the math.

April 12: Venus at Large, a comedy by Henry Denker featuring characters based on Marilyn and Arthur Miller, opens on Broadway and receives negative reviews. Marilyn announces her intention to consult with Lee Strasberg before Something’s Got to Give starts shooting.

they can’t afford it, they don’t want to say they can’t afford it—they’re too embarrassed—so they make up other excuses to cover the financial issue, like they didn’t like their costumes, or they didn’t like their solos, or they didn’t win, or they’re always in the back of the group.

(...)Clarkson fue a ayudar a Brynne y Marie en la cocina mientras Gabrielle y Elaina parecían hacerse buenas amigas hablando de libros— especialmente uno muy popular sobre un multimillonario muy joven y su obsesión con una mujer aún más joven... y el sexo. Habían montón de escenas de sexo eróticas en el libro, aparentemente en cada página. Neil y yo nos miramos con simpatía el uno al otro, y no tuvimos absolutamente nada que añadir a la conversación. Es decir decir, ¿quién lee esta basura? ¿Quién tiene tiempo? ¿Por qué incluso leer sobre sexo en un libro cuando se puede tenerlo en la vida real? No lo entiendo.

And as for returning to work as a reporter—something she’d given considerable thought to before taking over her father’s inquiry agency—the Sydney newspapers had dismissed most of their women reporters home once the men started to return from the war, or else confined them to the social pages, or covering the Easter Show, which was a bit too steep a downgrade for Billie after she’d chased Nazi activity across Europe, built a good portfolio of published articles, and worked alongside the likes of Lee Miller and Clare Hollingworth. No, she wouldn’t last in that kind of work. It was an imperfect world, and her chosen profession was decidedly imperfect, but for now she had a hint of that spark again, that sense of doing something that mattered to someone.

Surely part of the moral meaning of representative government is that the representatives from all parts of a vast nation coming together in a great mosaic not only represent the interests and visions of their respective localities but also then learn from each other, affect each other, reason together, diminish their respective provincialisms, and shape something nearer to the common good.

In college, I stacked my bookshelves with Rumi, Woolf, Didion, Wendell Berry, Mary Oliver, Banana Yoshimoto, Miranda July, Chang-rae Lee, Carlos Bulosan

Every time the days morphed into night, my mind spun around like a carousel. What was it about the night that made people overthink everything? Their whole lives? The meaning of their existence? Why the hell they did that one weird thing in third grade, and why were they dwelling about it now? It was only the bad memories that seemed nocturnal, insecurities and self-doubt that sprang to life at night, louder than they were during the day.

And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. I should have been there to encourage you to get better and to help you through something I didn’t fully understand. But because I didn’t understand it, I got angry and ran away from something really scary.

To all in the village I seemed, no doubt, To go this way and that way, aimlesssly. But here by the river you can see at twilight The soft-winged bats fly zig-zag here and there- They must fly so to catch their food. And if you have ever lost your way at night In the deep wood near Miller's Ford, And dodged this way and now that, Wherever the light of the Milky Way shone through, Trying to find the path, You should understand I sought the way With earnest zeal, and all my wanderings Were wanderings in the quest.

In the last spring I ever knew, In those last days, I sat in the forsaken orchard Where beyond fields of greenery shimmered The hills at Miller's Ford; Just to muse on the apple tree With its ruined trunk and blasted branches, And shoots of green whose delicate blossoms Were sprinkled over the skeleton tangle, Never to grow in fruit. And there was I with my spirit girded By the flesh half dead, the senses numb, Yet thinking of youth and the earth in youth,- Such phantom blossoms palely shining Over the lifeless boughs of Time. O earth that leaves us ere heaven takes us! Had I been only a tree to shiver With dreams of spring and a leafy youth, Then I had fallen in the cyclone Which swept me out of the soul's suspense Where it's neither earth nor heaven.

spent most of her ten-year military career at a keyboard, directing drone strikes against terrorists. She’d killed more people from the comfort of a Herman Miller chair, with a Starbucks Cinnamon Dolce Latte in one hand, than most soldiers

Sometimes thoughts cling to me like leaches, and I fear that if I can’t free myself from them, they will drain me of everything.

In his mind, (located somewhere above his ears, or so he believed, due to the way just hearing her name could move his heart) he knew she was a star. Yet he held no overly grandiose visions of her. He knew she wasn't the biggest or brightest, not the closest, nor the warmest, not even the only one. But to him, he saw a magic in her, a comfort, a place that felt; like home. And without being able to see her up there, well, to him, the sky might as well be fucking empty.

Sorrow is a robin with a broken wing, unable to fly. Pain is having it crawl into my wounds and nest inside my chest. Agony is knowing it's always going to be there and still feeling so alone.

And there he was, dead. He had finally succumbed to the exhaustion, no longer could he tread the waters of the sea inside him, he drowned in the ocean of unspilled tears within his chest.

If loving yourself was easy everyone would do it.

Dreams leave our minds at night, From there they go about floating carelessly through the ethereal planes until they freeze into a crystal formation. Then they fall slowly back to earth, that's why no two snowflakes are the same.

When submerged in alcohol, truth floats to the top while lies sink to the bottom.

Self-destruction can be cathartic in the worst ways possible.

Pain, Anger, and Sorrow no matter how brief can feel an eternity. Pleasure, Happiness, and Joy however long seem but temporary instances. Live your life for those fleeting moments, and you will have no time for regret.

Life sucks. Resurrect me when it’s over.

Restriction defines probability, When dealing with infinity anything is possible.

Mental attrition drives you insane. Emotional contrition drives you crazy. Together they drive you to madness.

We are complex creatures with simple minds existing in a confusing world.

The star knows more of the darkness than it does of the light.

What hasn’t killed me, has never quit trying.

When eating your emotions, just imagine. What would it be like if sadness felt as good as ice cream tasted?

In the end we may crash and burn, our makeshift wings engulfed in flames, but let it be said by none that we ever gave up on trying to fly, in our attempt to reach the stars.

Helping the caterpillar can sometimes kill the butterfly. You can’t fight their darkness for them, but you can make sure they don't face it alone.

People who say friendship isn’t important; Are the same ones who got hurt by someone who thought the same.

All is fair in love and war. Yet love is more violent, has/shows no mercy, and pulls no punches.

If you think you’ve got a handle on life, then it’s probably not attached to anything.

People get so used to storms in their lives that they sometimes lose hope that it will ever end. They lock their doors and stay behind their walls forever. If you want them to come out, or you yourself be let in. All you need to do is wait, be patient, and shine.

A sane person looks at an empty space and sees nothing. Where as an insane person looks upon an empty space and sees unimaginable things waiting to happen.

Often times, none but the devil know your pain. I speak not of the fires of hell, but the fall from heaven.

My secrets and wishes are between me and the stars that choose to listen.

Humanity’s saving grace are the weird fucked-up people I call my friends.

Never underestimate the power of just being around someone.

If Lucifer is the morning star, is God the moon? Is an angelic dawn the light of gods darkest angel?

Love is there to show us what we should hold on to. Hate is there to show us what we should let go of.

There are secrets whispered between heartbeats.

If you think a lot, write a book, Because a gravestone does not have much space.

The last of the romantics die the worst deaths, alone. But at least they die in love.

We swallow coal, and choke on diamonds, that's the hell inside us.

I feel too much, I leave too much unsaid, I think too much, I chew on words unspoken, jagged edges carve me up, gnashing away at my insides. From my mouth falls broken bits, Sometimes its poetry. Sometimes its blood and bone.

I feel too much, I leave too much unsaid, I think too much, I chew on words unspoken, jagged edges carve me up, gnashing away at my insides. From my mouth falls broken bits, Sometimes it's poetry. Sometimes it's blood and bone.

The patron saint of vengeance dwells within the ash of the heart’s hearth. For nothing screams for vengeance more than losing what we love while still breathing.

The end comes too soon, and apologies come too late. For that I am sorry.

If scarcity defines value, why do those who feel worthless want to be like everyone else?

I never had a friend like you before, and i still haven't.

Every person you idolize has fucked up in one way or another.

Words are just noises we make to describe stuff.

Nonsense is better than no sense. For at least some sense can be made from it.

Lessons learned the hard way, aren’t easily forgotten.

Words are no substitute for experience.

Perceptions are shaped by experience, Experiences are created by life, Life is constructed out of perception. Perceptions are fruits of the mind. Experiences are products of the heart. Life is a manifestation of the soul.

Yesterday's past memories die in the mind. Today's present moments of life, live now in the soul. Tomorrow's future dreams are born in the heart.

When a tree is lost, it can return to its roots to find it's routes.

Sometimes it gets so quiet, I can hear all the things you never said.

You define your existence, not the other way around.

Is hell still hell if everyone you hated in life isn't there?

Tis not the weapon you wield, Nor the armor you wear, It’s not the steed you mount into battle, Nor is it the monsters you slay, It’s not the quests you’ve undertaken, Tis not even your path journeyed thus far. It’s the companions at your side that make an adventure.

If we do not hope, we do not try, If we do not try, we do not fail, If we do not fail, we do not hurt, If we do not hurt, we do not live, If we do not live, we do not die, If we do not die, we do not dream, If we do not dream, we do not love, If we do not love we do not hope.

A puzzle is a scattered mess of pieces before it’s put together, people are like that sometimes too.

To show Bravery is to enter the unknown darkness, knowing there MIGHT BE monsters inside. To show Courage is to enter the unknown darkness, knowing there ARE monsters inside.

There is no egress from madness, no order, and thus no path, sometimes you must lose yourself before you can find your way out.

Trade your caterpillar dreams for a butterfly reality.

Creativity is Doing what you can with what you have, Imagination is Dreaming of what you could do with what you could have.

The single most critical ingredient to your happiness is you. Never forget you.

Actions speak as such, where as words are but noise.

Life is about proving yourself wrong in times of self-doubt.

Dreams do not have to be an if, They can be a when, Not something to be put off till later, But something to be saved till then, The choice is yours, As are the dreams of thou, As when, to when, you will let your THEN, be NOW.

Life will try to kill you any way it can, It will! Don’t make it easy for it, Let it be remembered that you put up one hell of a fight.

Though the existence of voices in my head label me insane, One can't ignore the practicality or validity of their arguments.

Having faith in others is easy, having faith in yourself is hard.

Give up on the irrational hopes that your hopelessness will kill you, it won’t, it will just hurt a lot.

I have no clue what the future holds, what failures are yet to come, my disappointments, or how I’ll die. But it doubt it will be because of pain,. Pain hurts me without a doubt, it haunts me even. But in the end I think it will be hope that does me in.