The cat in gloves catches no mice. - Benjamin Franklin

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I would say the biggest difference is that you're just in a studio by yourself when you're making an animated movie. You don't have anybody to play off of.

Benjamin Franklin

The cat in gloves catches no mice.

Cat, Gloves, Mice, Catches

Same Author Quotes

Lost time is never found again.

Found, Lost, Motivational, Positive, Time

My refusing to eat meat occasioned inconveniency, and I have been frequently chided for my singularity. But my light repast allows for greater progress, for greater clearness of head and quicker comprehension.

Head, Light, Meat, Progress, Refusing

To succeed, jump as quickly at opportunities as you do at conclusions.

New Beginnings, Opportunities, Opportunity, Quickly, Succeed

Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards; there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.

Changed, Descends, God, Rain, Wine

After all, wedlock is the natural state of man. A bachelor is not a complete human being. He is like the odd half of a pair of scissors, which has not yet found its fellow, and therefore is not even half so useful as they might be together.

Half, Human, Men, Together, Useful

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Bill Hader

I would say the biggest difference is that you're just in a studio by yourself when you're making an animated movie. You don't have anybody to play off of.

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Ibn Qayyim Al-Jawziyya

Speech remains as a slave to you, but the moment it leaves your mouth, you become its slave.

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Bruno Mars

I came to California and got signed at a young age. And it's not like you see in the movies, where you start rubbing shoulders with Timbaland and Pharrell, and you become a giant pop star.

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Boris Pasternak

February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels To where the ink and all you grieving Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With sudden cries the wind is pitted, The more haphazard, the more true The poetry that sobs its heart out.

Blackness, Fall, Myriad, Sadness, Sing, Spring

Lucy Maud Montgomery

I must be getting old. . . People are beginning to tell me I look so young. They never tell you that when you are young.

Aging, Beginning, Look, Looks, People, Young