I had many years where I just worked from film to film to film. And then all of a sudden I went: "Where did I put my bags down? Where's my little place I call home?"
Hope! thou nurse of young desire.
There was a jolly miller once, Lived on the River Dee; He worked and sang, from morn to night; No lark so blithe as he. And this the burden of his song, Forever used to be, "I care for nobody, not I, If no one cares for me.
How happy is the sailor's life, from coast to coast to roam; in every port he finds a wife, in every land a home.
Young fellows will be young fellows.
But if I'm content with a little, Enough is as good as a feast.
Tis a sure sign work goes on merrily, when folks sing at it.
No man is entitled to the blessings of freedom unless he be vigilant in its preservation.
Those who go ahead provide a little light into the unknown.
I must die. I must be imprisoned. I must suffer exile. But must I die groaning? Must I whine as well? Can anyone hinder me from going into exile with a smile? The master threatens to chain me: what say you? Chain me? My leg you will chain--yes, but not my will--no, not even Zeus can conquer that.
And all the winds go sighing, for sweet things dying.