Seems Quotes

I don’t have a definition for depression. I’m productive, and that’s not a sign of depression, right? And I don’t have weeks where I don’t leave my bed. It seems like depressed people have those.

I’m a very private person. I barely tell my friends what’s going on half the time, so the idea that I should then talk to the world about what is going on seems anathema to me. People can say what they want. I’m not going to change anyone’s mind.

I say Democrats should not be afraid to talk about the morality of life, of caring for children who are born. It seems the Republican obsession with being pro-life lasts about nine months. After that, it’s each baby for herself.

Having a mind that is open to everything and attached to nothing seems to me to be one of the most basic principles that you can adopt to contribute to individual and world peace.

History seems to be so clumsy.

To me, consensus seems to be the process of abandoning all beliefs, principles, values and policies. So it is something in which no one believes and to which no one objects.

I would love to learn other languages, maybe French? My uncle speaks German so maybe also German? Chinese seems to be too difficult.

One of the things that seems absolutely clear to me about werewolves – with their canine makeup – is that they would be dogs, as it were.

Fear seems to have many causes. Fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of being hurt, and so on, but ultimately all fear is the ego‘s fear of death, of annihilation. To the ego, death is always just around the corner. In this mind-identified state, fear of death affects every aspect of your life.

Most people, it seems, stretch the truth to make themselves seem more impressive. I, it seems, stretch the truth to make myself look worse.

It seems like the world’s major cities are getting more and more homogenized, so I think it’s important to go off-road and find treasures in offbeat destinations.

At the base level, a burger is a piece of meat and a bun with something on it. It’s simple but it seems to make a lot of people happy.

I loathe my name because it is mine and also because it is not mine; it is at once too intimate and seems to have no connection with me. Perhaps because the name is quite common, it never seems to fit me, or fit me alone. Nevertheless, when I see the name, I always feel a peculiar sense of shame.

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.

I get a lot of disbelief that my accent could actually be real, which seems strange.

It just seems like it would be kinda cool to be able to actually teach kids important stuff.

I’ve really loved steampunk for a long time, ever since ‘Wild Wild West,’ and it’s always been a genre and an era that’s fascinated me. But so often it’s set in England, and that doesn’t really resonate with me, or maybe it just seems a little overdone.

I can’t think of anything off the top of my head that seems more important than something designed to raise money to keep something going that keeps IV drug users from dying.

Our whole social environment seems to us to be filled with forces which really exist only in our own minds.

We are constituted so that simple acts of kindness, such as giving to charity or expressing gratitude, have a positive effect on our long-term moods. The key to the happy life, it seems, is the good life: a life with sustained relationships, challenging work, and connections to community.

I have no respect for the passion of equality, which seems to me merely idealizing envy – I don’t disparage envy, but I don’t accept it as legitimately my master.

The difficulty of writing a second novel is directly proportional to how successful the first novel was, it seems.

I really believe that the aliens are us from the future. It seems to me a very plausible reason that explains a lot of phenomena as opposed to green men with one eye from outer space.

It’s never as good as it feels, and it’s never as bad as it seems.

To me, spending millions of dollars recreating the world’s sadness with actors and props and sets – it seems like a kind of arrogant waste of money… Unless, that is, it’s a film about an historical event.

It seems astonishing to be paid for indulging in pure pleasure. For me to go to Coburg is rather as if a trainspotter was sent for a few weeks to Swindon or a chocoholic asked on holiday by Green and Black.

What people have trouble getting their head around is the idea that a celebrity, somebody whom they admire, somebody who seems to have everything, would even be depressed.

I’ve had my successes and failures. I know many academics in my field loathe me. I’ve come to loathe them back, as it seems only polite to do so. But at heart it’s absurd; we should band together against the big common enemies.

The message of ‘Zomb-B’ is that you have to listen to your own heart and head and question everything. Question stereotypes and the way the world seems or is being presented. Some of the people we should be most concerned about, dangerous right-wing bigots, sound convincing and reasonable.

Humankind seems to have an enormous capacity for savagery, for brutality, for lack of empathy, for lack of compassion.

I have spent a lot of time studying the issue of relationships, how I grew up, my parents‘ influence on me. I’ve talked to a therapist,; I’ve looked inward spiritually at myself, and what it seems to come down to is that I’m a Sagittarius. Please don’t make me reveal more than that. It’s tough enough as it is.

Celebrity is absolutely preposterous. Entertainment seems to be inflating. It used to be the punctuation to your life, a film or a novel or a play, a way of celebrating a good week or month. Now it feels as if it’s all punctuation.

Other men wear white suits in summer and it doesn’t seem to bother them. But my white suit seems to be a little whiter than theirs. I think also that it may have something written on the back of it, although I can’t find it when I take the suit off.

These days it seems that every big, new, heavily promoted children’s book is rather like the ghost of poor old Jacob Marley. Each one comes trailing a long, clanking chain of references – in the form of overexcited press releases and slightly hysterical jacket blurbs – to bestsellers of a supposedly similar nature.

People are more than their first impressions. And even if someone seems like a lot, or seems this way or that way, it doesn’t mean they’re not a three-dimensional person, with a real life.

London seems to be a town with a lot of comedy fans and people that really enjoy stand-up.

We live in this world of great promise, where everything seems to offer an unchanging final happiness, if we can only get enough of it. It is very intoxicating.

It is comforting to reflect that the disproportion of things in the world seems to be only arithmetical.