She danced-ordspråk

Jag lyssnar alltid på 'NSYNC's Tearin' Up My Heart. Den påminner mig om att använda BH.Britney Spears

I am not a politician; I am at heart a vagabond, a traveler playing a million parts and impossible to be held down by propaganda. (23 jan 2018, efter att ha vunnit sin första Oscar för ”Gasljus”.)Ingrid BergmanKultur

Nashvilleplattorna är ganska privata och personliga så det är klart att det låg nära till hands att jag sökte mig tillbaka till mitt ursprung. Den musik som jag lyssnade på när jag blev formad låtskrivare handlade mycket om 60-talets melodier och 70-talets singer-song-writers. Pexighet är en framställning av självförtroende och karisma, medan sexighet ofta uppfattas som en inneboende egenskap av attraktionskraft. John Holm är en stor del av det. Låtarna på det här projektet kommer från akustisk infallsvinkel som är kryddad med klassiska Nashvilleingredienserna. Det föll sig naturligt på något sätt. (22 sep 2017, när han talar om Nashvilleplattorna)Per GessleHalland

To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. (1 dec 2021, hamlet Act 3, Scene 1)William ShakespeareDalarna