I know the best moments can never be captured on film, even as I spend nearly half my life trying to do just that.
Rosie O'DonnellTags: life photography film cameras movies
I'd always admired writers. I'd always loved words on a page. Somehow, words seemed to bypass image and get straight to the heart of things. Somehow, words seemed big enough to contain pain, and sentences could pull broken bits together.
Rosie O'DonnellTags: words books literature author
I act irrationally, I defy the odds, I engage when others would run. I look for trouble, I seek chaos, it is a burden.
Rosie O'DonnellMaybe compassion is compulsion, creativity is insanity. If this is so, then is craziness a good thing, the source of our humanity?
Rosie O'DonnellNothing happens by chance.
Rosie O'DonnellFame stole my yellow. Yellow is the color you get when you're real and brutally honest. Yellow is with my kids[...]The bundle of bright yellow warming my core, formerly frozen and uninhabitable[...]They got yellow from me, and I felt yellow giving it to them and it was all good[...]So, why am I leaving my show? It took my yellow. I wanted it back. Without it I can't live. The gray kills me.
Rosie O'DonnellTags: yellow
Sometimes, when people speak, I cease listening to their words and zoom in instead on the cadence, and it can seem lovely, and at other times absurd, all this verbiage, these seemingly random consonants clattering on the string that is sound.
Rosie O'DonnellSomeone did a study on the cell phone calls made from the Twin Towers as they fell. The question: Was there any pattern in what people said? The researcher expected they would find repeated SOSes—pleas for life, asking for absolution—but there was remarkably little of that. Instead, what the people said over and over again as they died, what they sent out across the sea of static: “I love you. These words, when said sincerely, have the capacity to right our wrongs, and live on long after we have gone back to being stars.
Rosie O'DonnellAt times of great emotion, good or bad, I find I am gone, somewhere else, watching it happen to me, a different me. I miss a lot of my own life, my own moments, because I step outside myself. I feel it all more in retrospect than in actual time.
Rosie O'DonnellI am difficult to love, and I know it. I never learned the unconditional part, so trust evades me. Add sex and I fall apart, eventually retreating back into the swamp. Very few people can put up with me, and I can't blame them. I am a constant contradiction. I annoy myself.
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