Words matter. These are the best Natascha McElhone Quotes, and they’re great for sharing with your friends.
Death is final. No it is not just final, it’s worse than that, it’s diminishing: the dead continue to decrease, to occupy less space.
I think it’s incumbent on actresses to bring something else to the part which isn’t in the script.
In terms of ‘Solaris,’ I didn’t really think about the religious aspect an awful lot. There’s one scene at a dinner party, and it’s discussed, but it wasn’t an overwhelming theme for me.
My grandparents never understood why my mother Noreen chose such exotic names for her children: Damon and me. My granny insisted on calling my brother Dermot – a good Irish name – until she died; I was just known as ‘wee one.’
I think the difference between finding happiness, or moments of happiness, is how you choose to interpret things. That’s a rather shocking responsibility. That we’re responsible for our own happiness. It’s not those around us.
Scribbling things down is my therapy. I filter later.
I play Nitin Sawhney’s ‘Letting Go’ repeatedly, nonstop. I find it transformative. I’m so glad iPods were invented so I didn’t have to drive everyone around me mad with the repetition.
I have a massive divide between being a competent human being and being completely hopeless, when it comes to logic.
Mum left school at 15, and after a few years of modelling and dating jazz musicians, was married by 21 to my father, Mike Taylor, a journalist on the ‘Daily Mirror.’ They had my brother and me pretty quickly and had split up by the time I was two. I don’t really have any memories of them as a couple.
I always keep myself busy. I’m writing. Or I’m creating something. Or I’m doing stuff with the kids. I’m up incredibly early in the morning; I go to bed incredibly late at night.
Living with very limited expectations is a much more immediate way of living. You really do just make the best of everything you have. I guess kids have that ability; they wait in joyful anticipation of something rather than that sense of entitlement.
I happen to find motherhood a very natural state, but I know a lot of other people don’t.
My kids always say to me, ‘Can we watch TV?’ I say, ‘Absolutely!’ because then I can get something done. But then they say, and I wait for it, ‘But can you watch with us?’ My moment of freedom vanishes. So not only do I not think TV’s that great and I hate sitting in front of it, but I have to with them.
I always think I love work, and I knew early on that I wanted to be an actress. Then I meet people who have truly dedicated their lives to acting, and I realise that I’m so completely in the back seat.
I was brought up by a Marxist rationalist stepfather, so I don’t believe in the supernatural or religion or horoscopes, and the absolute nature of death is quite helpful for me. My husband was there, then he wasn’t.
I’ve always looked old for my age.
I grew up with my stepfather in Brighton, but I did spend a lot of time with my natural father, and I was loved by both, so I suppose the advantage of this was that I wasn’t bound by one set of experiences; I always had an alternative.
I’m very different to my mum. I’m not as beautiful as she is, nor – she probably despairs about this – as groomed. I certainly rebelled against her idea of looking well turned-out. I spent several years with a shaved head in jeans and baggy shirts.
I’m not religious. I was as a child, and like lots of people, I suppose, rapidly became very disillusioned with the whole thing. I also feel that organised religion has caused far more problems than it has solved.
Growing up, I wasn’t allowed dolls, and my brothers weren’t allowed guns. I inherited my brothers’ clothes. I was never dressed in pink, and they were never dressed in blue; there were none of those rules that people still bizarrely subscribe to.
