My feelings about my mother and about our relationship are so confused that to write them down with clarity would mean I had them all figured out, which I do not. – Brooke Shields’s diary.
Don’t waste a minute not being happy. If one window closes, run to the next window – or break down a door.
Humour has always been a self-defence mechanism for me.
Louis Malle was the best filmmaker I’ve ever worked with. He was such an artist. He was dealing with the theme of innocence and experience.
People say, ‘I love my wrinkles.’ I don’t love my wrinkles – come on!
I went to an ordinary school in New York City with no other actors. I learned to compartmentalise different parts of my life. I was one person at home and then another person at work and for that reason my career didn’t challenge my family life.
I just felt as though I would never be happy again, and as if I had fallen into a big black hole.
My mother totally protected me as a model. She took me on every look-see, she was there on the set if I wanted her to be.
My younger years of modeling were really just filled with fun trips. I was doing catalogues for Alexander’s and Bloomingdale’s.
You are only as pretty as you are nice and smart.
You don’t necessarily have to be in misery to be talented.
If my jeans could talk, would I be embarrassed?
I suffered from post-natal depression after Rowan was born. I had a healthy, beautiful baby girl and I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t hold her, smile at her. All I wanted was to disappear and die.
It’s nice, it gives you a feeling of security so that if something breaks we know we can always call a guy over and he’ll bring a drill or something.
The difficulty of IVF or of any fertility issues is the hope and the shattered hope, the dream that it might happen this time and then it doesn’t happen.
High school basically continued with bouts of her getting drunk and then stopping for a day. There was not one major moment or birthday celebration during which she could remain sober. I learned how to plan my joy. I would front-load my birthdays with breakfast activities or plan to be with her for only the beginning of an event. Then I would go off to be with friends and know that that would be the last I would see of my mother’s real facial expressions.
With regard to my mother, it felt like it was never enough. Nothing I said or did seemed correct or could make her stop getting drunk or feel deeper happiness. I felt helpless. Why wasn’t I enough to help her stop drinking?
My unhappiness was rooted in my mother’s inability to stop drinking.
To me, being spooned has always been an instant sleeping pill. This closeness with my mom gave me the utmost feeling of comfort and safety.
I believed for a long time that I could affect my mother’s drinking. Like many children of alcoholics, I thought if I asked a certain way, or made some type of deal with my mother where I promised something, it would be compelling enough to make her stop.