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Weir Quotes
On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.
Kenneth Grahame
I'd love to work with the people who really got the film industry going again through the '70s: Peter Weir, Bruce Beresford, Gillian Armstrong, Fred Schepisi.
David Wenham
When I met Peter Weir, we did a movie called 'Master and Commander' together, and that's when I really started to understand the power of acting, the power of directing, finding the emotion in performance.
Robert Stromberg
I feel safe in saying this, and that is that Peter Weir is without a doubt one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. I'd open a door in a movie for him if he asked me to.
Paul Bettany
Of course I was bullied and of course I was called names - my last name is Weir. That's very, very close to 'weird,' or 'queer' and any of those words. But I've never been anyone to cry over spilled milk or be upset because kids don't like me, or people don't like me... It makes my skin stronger and thicker. And why cry? Your mascara runs.
Johnny Weir
For me, I skate as masculine as I can. I'm not a big strong guy. I'm not interested in fighting or throwing punches or balling my hands in fists all day. I'm not interested in guns, I'm not interested in football or stereotypically masculine things, so I'm going to skate in a fashion that is manly for Johnny Weir.
Johnny Weir
I still have so much passion to perform... That's who Johnny Weir is: I'm a figure skater, I'm an athlete. I want to have fun and enjoy it.
Johnny Weir
I'd say in general, my style is Johnny Weir style. It's my style. I can't classify it as anything else.
Johnny Weir
Day was breaking at Plashwater Weir Mill Lock. Stars were yet visible, but there was dull light in the east that was not the light of night. The moon had gone down, and a mist crept along the banks of the river, seen through which the trees were the ghosts of trees, and the water was the ghost of water. This earth looked spectral, and so did the pale stars while the cold eastern glare, expressionless as to heat or colour, with the eye of the firmament quenched, might have been likened to the stare of the dead.
Charles Dickens