#p

Hollywood does not write parts for people like me, an elderly gentleman, and when they find out you're crippled, forget about it. No, I'll never work again. ↗

— Ricardo Montalban

#again #crippled #does #elderly #find

Slowly poetry becomes visual because it paints images, but it is also musical: it unites two arts into one. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#arts #because #becomes #images #into

It is to TV that I owe my freedom from bondage of the Latin lover roles. Television came along and gave me parts to chew on. It gave me wings as an actor. ↗

— Ricardo Montalban

#along #bondage #came #chew #freedom

There couldn't be better parents than mine, loving yet strict. They disciplined with love. A child without discipline is, in away, a lost child. You cannot have freedom without discipline. ↗

— Ricardo Montalban

#better #cannot #child #discipline #disciplined

I have been judged to be a pessimist but what abyss of ignorance and low egoism is not hidden in one who thinks that Man is the god of himself and that his future can only be triumphant? ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#been #egoism #future #god #hidden

Mass communication, radio, and especially television, have attempted, not without success, to annihilate every possibility of solitude and reflection. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#annihilate #attempted #especially #every #mass

Against the dark background of this contemporary civilization of well-being, even the arts tend to mingle, to lose their identity. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#arts #background #civilization #contemporary #dark

But poets were not considered dangerous and they were advised to exercise self-censorship. At most, poets were requested not to write at all. I took advantage of this negative liberty. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#advised #considered #dangerous #exercise #i

For my part, if I consider poetry as an object, I maintain that it is born of the necessity of adding a vocal sound (speech) to the hammering of the first tribal music. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#born #consider #first #hammering #i

Happiness, for you we walk on a knife edge. To the eyes you are a flickering light, to the feet, thin ice that cracks; and so may no one touch you who loves you. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#edge #eyes #feet #flickering #happiness