I think Kellie Martin, Reese Witherspoon and Claire Danes represent the future for women in film, and I would be honored to share the stage with any one of them.
In 1947 I married Rowena Palmer, and we have two daughters, Alison and Claire, and a son, John.
But I don't know if people are meant to be together. You have to have a lot in common, choose well and be really fortunate. It's not like you're sprinkled with fairy dust. You have to believe that love will be there when you need it.
You don't realize how useful a therapist is until you see yourself on e and discover you have more problems than you ever dreamed of.
I took three years off. I differentiated myself from the industry. Found my identity - sort of... I haven't graduated yet. I'm not legitimately educated yet, but maybe one day.
Yeah, there was the Flora Plum thing, where I trained for about a month and I had taken a semester off for that, and two weeks prior to filming, the financing collapsed.
I meant it, Claire,' he said quietly. 'My life is yours. And it's yours to decide what we shall do, where we go next. To France, to Italy, even back to Scotland. My heart has been yours since first I saw ye, and you've held my soul and body between your two hands here, and kept them safe. We shall go as ye say.
She smells better," Claire said. "And she made me cookies.
I’m taking off my shoes.’’ ‘‘Fine. Shoes off.’’ ‘‘And my pants.’’ ‘‘Don’t push it, Claire.
Oh, hey, Claire,” she said, and blinked. “Where are you going?” “Funeral,” Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely. “Yeah? Cool! Whose?” “Hers.” Shane said.
You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.
Tell me he’s not talking to Brandon,” Claire said. “Um… Ok. He’s not talking to Brandon.” “You’re lying.” “Yeah. He’s talking to Brandon. Look, let Shane do his thing, okay? He’s not as stupid as he looks, mostly.
I’m saying a prayer. Maybe you ought to, too. It’s going to take us a miracle to get through this.” Whether he was serious or not, Claire sent the prayer up toward heaven, and she thought the others did, too. So it seemed kind of miraculous when the doorbell rang. “At least they’re getting more polite when they try to kill us,” Shane said.
Hold on, Claire Bear! Next stop, Crazytown!
Claire: Seriously? My mom? Let you in my room? In the middle of the night? Michael: Moms like me.
Claire was struggling through last summer’s diary volume when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it. And, on his lapel was a button that said, If you can read this, thank a teacher.
Are you armed?" Oliver asked her. She glanced down at her backpack and instantly, instinctively held back. "No." "Lie to me again and I'll put you out on the street and do this myself." Claire swallowed. "Uh, yeah." "With what?" "Silver-coated stakes, wooden stakes, a crossbow, about ten bolts . . . oh, and a squirt gun with some silver-nitrate solution." He smiled grimly at the dark windshield. "What, no grenade launchers?" "Would they work?" "I choose not to comment.
Claire signed. "Go ahead. And thanks. Oh, and be careful?" "Please. I am the queen of careful. Also, princess of punk fabulousness."
What's with the disco lights?" Michael said, rolling down the window between the driver's compartment and the back. Eve turned around, and her face brightened. "You like it? I thought it looked really cool. I saw it in a movie, you know, in a limo." "It's cool," Michael said, and smiled at her. She smiled back. "Can't wait to lie here and watch it with you." Claire said, "You don't have to wait; it's working now. Look--Oh. Never mind." She blushed, feeling stupid that she hadn't gotten that one in the first second. Eve winked at her.
I think I'd fall for you no matter what, Claire. You're kind of awesome.
I love arguing with you, Claire. You always surprise me. And occasionally, you even make sense.
Shane talking to Claire - "Hang on - Slow down. I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right? You don't have to put out to keep me here. Well, as long as you eventually..." "Shut up" Claire said.
Shane talking to Claire - "In this whole screwed up town, you're the only thing that's always been right to me," He whispered. "I love you, Claire
Saint Claire, the patron saint of the kick-me sign.
Jeez, Claire. If I didn't love you, you'd scare me.
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