Memorizing dialogue has always come easy and quickly to me. My wife Eileen is also very helpful. She gives me choices, and asks me questions, and runs my lines with me.
Related quotes
A psychiatrist is a fellow who asks you a lot of expensive questions your wife asks for nothing.
quote by Joey Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A psychiatrist asks a lot of expensive questions your wife asks for nothing.
quote by Joey Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How can a question be answered that asks a lifetime of questions?
Norman Maclean in A River Runs Through It
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's fun being able to suit up and go and kick butt and not have to worry about memorizing dialogue. It's a whole different way of acting because you're not depending on the words at all, you're really depending on everything else that you have.
quote by Kelly Hu
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Dream I Still Remember
I went to a flower shop
to buy
A red rose for Eileen.
The seller looked at me
And at the red rose, and
Said:
“I think this rose is for Eileen”
And in a second,
He vanished from his shop.
I saw him then
On the other side of the street
Standing on his knees
With the red rose
In his hand
Asking Eileen for same something
I have been preparing myself to say
For five years.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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You Don't Love Me
I quietly surrender to the destiny’s verdict
Memorizing the very fact that you don’t love me
I read your name in all the lines across my hand
And one day you ask me ‘sorry, I forgot your name’
My eyes search for you wherever I go
You look through me as you have never known me before
I waited for you like you are my ultimate harbor
You walked past like I was no part of your travel
I walked around with you as though I possess you
You waved a Good Bye, without realizing the parting wound
I quietly surrender to the destiny’s verdict
Memorizing the very fact that you don’t love me
Lisette and Eileen
“When he was here alive, Eileen,
There was a word you might have said;
So never mind what I have been,
Or anything,—for you are dead.
“And after this when I am there
Where he is, you’ll be dying still.
Your eyes are dead, and your black hair,—
The rest of you be what it will.
“’Twas all to save him? Never mind,
Eileen. You saved him. You are strong.
I’d hardly wonder if your kind
Paid everything, for you live long.
“You last, I mean. That’s what I mean.
I mean you last as long as lies.
You might have said that word, Eileen,—
And you might have your hair and eyes.
“And what you see might be Lisette,
Instead of this that has no name.
Your silence—I can feel it yet,
Alive and in me, like a flame.
“Where might I be with him to-day,
Could he have known before he heard?
But no—your silence had its way,
Without a weapon or a word.
“Because a word was never told,
I’m going as a worn toy goes.
And you are dead; and you’ll be old;
And I forgive you, I suppose.
“I’ll soon be changing as all do,
To something we have always been;
And you’ll be old.… He liked you, too,
I might have killed you then, Eileen.
“I think he liked as much of you
As had a reason to be seen,—
As much as God made black and blue.
He liked your hair and eyes, Eileen.”
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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It's fun to do voiceover work, although you still have to act. But it doesn't involve memorizing lines, and you don't have to dress up.
quote by Stephen Root
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Questions Answered On Need To Know Basis
questions are easy
ask any question
ask questions freely
ask as you wish wisely
ask without hesitation
ask as heart moves each plead
ask as aroused curiosity leads
ask in hope ask in love or need
ask with value until heart bleeds
questions are easy answers hard
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Why Me?
When the hopes are hassled
And relationships are rattled
Naïveté asks, why me?
When wishes are whacked
And dreams are dashed
Naïveté asks, why me?
When fantasies are fettered
And blessings are battered
Naïveté asks, why me?
When desires are demolished
And ambitions are admonished
Naïveté asks, why me?
When temptations are traumatized
And passions are pulverized
Naïveté asks, why me?
Strangely,
Naïveté with influence
And naïveté with affluence
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with name
And naïveté with fame
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with health
And naïveté with wealth
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with fiefdom
And naïveté with wisdom
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with beauty
And naïveté with booty
Never asks, why me?
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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The wise man asks questions of himself; the fool questions others.
Of course, China is a key to the North Korea if we're going to solve that riddle, but they could also be helpful on Iraq, which is why it's important that we maintain a constructive dialogue with China.
quote by Frank Carlucci
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Or, Is It?
it's easy...
to say a lot of nothing
with a lot of words!
easy to preach by day
and whore by night.
easy to have a lot of answers,
when you dont even
know the questions...
easy to say:
'i'd never do that...'
it's a lot harder
to speak the truth
in a few simple words.
harder to admit your mistakes,
and be honest about yourself.
harder to listen for the questions,
knowing that often listening
is the best answer.
harder to admit:
'i've been there before...'
or, is it?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lecturer
He wrote on the board
“The husband said the wife
Is having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Shout comes up loud, “the wife”.
He takes a piece of chalk, and puts two commas
One after husband, and one after wife.
It now reads, “The husband, said the wife, is
Having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Confused murmur of husband, wife flutters.
“Not a word has changed, but the meaning has reversed
With just two commas.” Eats shoots and leaves, eh?
May I start the lecture on grammar, he said.
The class was all ears.
D T Joseph
19.02.08
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Fewer Questions To Ask
The more my mind expands,
Into a broadening clarity that connects...
I see how easy it is for many to invest,
Their time in unrest and acceptance of evilness.
In seems those choices are purposely met and kept,
To perpetuate and manifest as necessities.
Since those who are left asleep to stay that way,
Have fewer questions to ask or demand to be answered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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He who asks a question may be a fool for five minutes; he who asks no questions stays a fool forever.
Choices
Choices
Are a form of grace
To have a choice
A voice,
is a privilege
Choices can
Change situations
The right choices
can uphold mankind
for thousands of generations
Choices
becomes personal declarations
A vow for one to live by
There shall always be
difficult choices to make
inorder to survive
Therefore,
Choose wisely today
For tomorrow
Shall surely come and
The choices of today could
Makes all future matters
well done!
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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One Is 16 And The Other 18
the police officer arrested them
last night while they were strolling on the park
and this is the story:
he asks for their names and they say they have none
he asks from where they come from and they say
they do not really know
he asks them where they are going and they tell him
they are still undecided
he asks them what is in their bags and they say they are just nothing
he asks them some more and they say
they have nothing to say of themselves
they come from nowhere
and they are heading nowhere
and the police handcuffed them
these vagrants
these potential terrorists of this rural place
where the people still love peace
and this afternoon the police officer brings them all to me
and he tells me about the whole story
about his questions and their answers
and i am looking at them and they look at me
straight in my eyes
with dignity and without shame
with all pride
that they are telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
that this one whose age is 16 and this other one whose age is 18
are simply talking about
themselves
and about us
and about the policeman himself
and surely, i agree
we have no names, we do not know where we come from and we do not
really know where we are going
we are all like that, in the strictest sense of the word, except
for our little pretensions
and so i ordered the policeman to release them all
and let them be
themselves
and let them go in peace and finish their journey with all ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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435
The Police Officer Arrested Them
Last Night While They Were Strolling On The Park
And This Is The Story:
He Asks For Their Names And They Say They Have None
He Asks From Where They Come From And They Say
They Do Not Really Know
He Asks Them Where They Are Going And They Tell Him
They Are Still Undecided
He Asks Them What Is In Their Bags And They Say They Are Just Nothing
He Asks Them Some More And They Say
They Have Nothing To Say Of Themselves
They Come From Nowhere
And They Are Heading Nowhere
And The Police Handcuffed Them
These Vagrants
These Potential Terrorists Of This Rural Place
Where The People Still Love Peace
And This Afternoon The Police Officer Brings Them All To Me
And He Tells Me About The Whole Story
About His Questions And Their Answers
And I Am Looking At Them And They Look At Me
Straight In My Eyes
With Dignity And Without Shame
With All Pride
That They Are Telling The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
That This One Whose Age Is 16 And This Other One Whose Age Is 18
Are Simply Talking About
Themselves And About Us
And About The Policeman Himself
And Surely, I Agree
We Have No Names, We Do Not Know Where We Come From And We Do Not
Really Know Where We Are Going
We Are All Like That, In The Strictest Sense Of The Word, Except
For Our Little Pretensions
And So I Ordered The Policeman To Release Them All
And Let Them Be Themselves
And Let Them Go In Peace And Finish Their Journey With All Ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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