#miller

Think about it. These guys have far more reasons to pull a prank on Doug than they do me. I kind of wished we had changed clothes, though.' 'There wasn't time,' Katie said. 'Your true love is in desperate need of your assistance. How can you think of changing into the appropriate attire for a rescue? ↗

— Robin Jones Gunn

#doug #humor #katie #robin-jones-gunn #sierra-jensen

The attentions of Wilkie Mackenzie were a conquest, an aspiration, a dream. The fresh memory of all those women, batting their eyelashes coquettishly, it boiled in my veins. One in particular. And Wilkie looked almost amused, now that his own jealousy had eased. “Are you jealous, my love? ↗

— Juliette Miller

#juliette-miller #roses #wilkie #dreams

The last summer of his life he sat hours together on the old chintz-covered swing-bed in front of the willow tree, chain-smoking Woodbines and watching the shadows flood the lawn until they swallowed him and only the tip of his ciggarette still showed, a faint red pulse. How she had longed to bring him in, to rescue him as he had rescued his sergeant. Her mother wasn't up to it, sitting all day in the kitchen listening to Alma Cogan and Ronnie Hilton on the wireless, biting her nails until they bled. So, it was she who had gone, crossing the lawn at dusk to stand in front of him, waiting for the right words to come into her head, for a dove that would bring her the gift of speech. But nothing came, and he had gazed at her through the smoke of his ciggarette as though from the far side of a pane of glass. He felt sorry for her perhaps, knowing why she had come out, knowing the impossibility of it. But instead of saying, sit down beside me Alice, sit down, daughter, and we will try to understand together the unbearable truth that love is not always enough, that people cannot always be brought back in, he had said, very conservatively, as though in reference to a discussion he had been having with her in his head for weeks, 'They used flame-throwers, you know'. And she had nodded, yes, Daddy, and left him, and gone to her room, and pushed her face into the pillow and bawled. Because she should have done it, should have, and she had failed. ↗

— Andrew Miller

#oxygen #love

I am living at the Villa Borghese. There is not a crumb of dirt anywhere, nor a chair misplaced. We are all alone here and we are dead. ↗

— Henry Miller

#henry-miller #first-sentence

I listened so hard because it felt like, while she was telling me stories, she was massaging my soul, letting me know that I was not alone, that I will never have to be alone, that there are friends and family and churches and coffee shops. I was not going to be cast into space. ↗

— Donald Miller

#community #donald-miller #inspirational #stories #family

Judy Miller is the most innocent person in this case. I really thought that was outrageous that she was jailed and we needed as journalists to draw a line in the sand in a strong but thoughtful way. ↗

— Tom Brokaw

#draw #i #innocent #jailed #journalists

Henry Miller wrote novels, but he calls his protagonist Henry, often Henry Miller, and his books are in this gray area between memoir and novel. ↗

— Leslie Fiedler

#between #books #calls #gray #gray area

Miller didn't write Death of a Salesman. He released it. It was there inside him, waiting to be turned loose. That's the measure of its merit. ↗

— Elia Kazan

#him #inside #loose #measure #merit

And then, all of a sudden, you're like, all that's great and fun, but Arthur Miller's in my dressing room. This is the third night he's been here and he sits in my dressing room for an hour after each show, and talks to me for an hour. So I'm pretty spoiled right now. ↗

— Peter Krause

#arthur #been #dressing #dressing room #each

When I owned the theater, I had the Glen Miller Orchestra. I had 20 girls singing and dancing. I had a cast of characters. It was a big group production, as well as ushers, ticket takers. ↗

— Bobby Vinton

#cast #characters #dancing #glen #group