Immigration Literature Quotes & Sayings

[Roger] Vadim became famous worldwide as a director, and I as an actress, but the other side of the coin was terrible. My life was totally turned upside down. I was followed, spied upon, adored, insulted. My private life became public. — Brigitte Bardot

All those who leave immigrate to better lives, but I wanted to better my death. Maybe it is the ending that matter, not the life, I thought. Maybe we, like elephants, walk towards our chosen burials. — Rawi Hage

In the depth a light will grow,
A silver shine no shadows know,
Like wings unfolding in the sky,
That circle 'round a gleaming eye,
Turning darkness all away,
Even depths will know their day,
For every shadow has its end,
In light!
Life will return again! — Robert Fanney

Without foundations, there can be no fashion. — Christian Dior

Most of my movies get about a third raves, a third vicious attacks, and a third in-between. — James Toback

MY teacher Trungpa Rinpoche encouraged us to lead our lives as an experiment, a suggestion that has been very important to me. — Pema Chodron

Let me do five of those, and then some slower ones for those kids that can't understand what I'm sayin. — Big Pun

My dad is a little Scottish guy with tattoos all over his arms. — Scott Raab

The public is never pleased with what we do, wanting always a copy of what we have done. — Jean Cocteau

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show And straight is gone, as it had never been. — Samuel Daniel

Some things ARE true, even though the party says they are true. — George Orwell

The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men. — Sherwood Anderson

Getting my legal situation fixed takes a bit longer than we all thought: twelve years to be exact. Not a big deal. Only most of my life. — Patricio Maya

She knew how to swing her legs on that hyphen that defined and denied who she was: Iranian-American. Neither the first word nor the second really belonged to her. Her place was on the hyphen and on the hyphen she would stay, carrying memories of the one place from which she had come and the other place in which she must succeed. The hyphen was hers-- a space small, and potentially precarious. On the hyphen she would sit, and on the hyphen she would stand, and soon, like a seasoned acrobat, she would balance there perfectly, never falling, never choosing either side over the other, content with walking that thin line. — Marjan Kamali