Helen Hunt
Helen Hunt
Helen Elizabeth Huntis an American actress, film director, and screenwriter. She starred in the sitcom Mad About You for seven years, and played single mother Carol Connelly in the 1997 romantic comedy film As Good as It Gets, for which she won the Academy Award for Best Actress. Some of her other notable films include Twister, Cast Away, What Women Want, Pay It Forward, and The Sessions, the latter garnered her a second Academy Award nomination. She made her directorial...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionMovie Actress
Date of Birth15 June 1963
CityCulver City, CA
CountryUnited States of America
Most men call fretting a minor fault, a foible, and not a vice. There is no vice except drunkenness which can so utterly destroy the peace, the happiness of a hoe.
The new is older than the old; And newest friend is oldest friend in this: That, waiting him, we longest grieved to miss One thing we sought.
Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?
For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.
Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.
Who longest wait of all surely wins.
That indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.
There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families
The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament. . . . Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.
Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.
If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.