Famous Quotes Ipsum

I would rather fix something more important than my hair. youth is wasted on the young. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. though she be but little, she is fierce. truth is in the eye of the beholder. you set up your place in my thoughts / moved in and made my thinking crowded. if you have only one smile in you, give it to the people you love. don't be surly at home, then go out in the street and start grinning ''good morning'' at total strangers. have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause in a roomful of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're all alone in the whole house? each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful, if you listen carefully. i must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul. our day-to-day life is bombarded with fortuities, or, to be more precise, with the accidental meetings of people and events we call coincidence. when you get into a tight place and it seems you can't go on, hold on, for that's just the place and the time that the tide will turn. maybe that's what bravery is, a stronger fear of not being brave. when i dare to be powerful / to use my strength / in the service of my vision / then it becomes / less and less important / whether i am afraid. be brave enough to live life creatively. the creative is the place where no one else has ever been. you have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. you can't get there by bus, only by hard work and risk and by not quite knowing what you're as the last leaf falls it only symbolizes the end of the tree's cycle, not the end of the tree's life. so too, as we complete our life cycle, there is a new beginning as our souls journey onward. the soul is an emanation of the divinity, a part of the soul of the world, a ray from the source of light. it comes from without into the human body, as into a temporary abode, it goes out of it anew; it wanders in ethereal regions, it returns to visit.... it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal. but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind? my religion is very simple. my religion is kindness. can't say fairer than that. perfection is achieved not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away. moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting..

My first thought about art, as a child, was that the artist brings something into the world that didn't exist before, and that he does it without destroying something else, a kind of refutation of the conservation of matter. that still seems to me its central magic, its core of joy. nothing strengthens the judgement and quickens the conscience like individual responsibility. it's kind of fun to do the impossible. i don't want my hair cut! i don't want my eyebrows up or down. i want them right where they are! i'm leaving now, and if anyone so much as makes a move to stop me, there'll be plenty of hair cut and it won't be mine! it took me too long to realize / that i don't take good pictures / 'cause i have the kind of beauty / that moves there are some people who read too much: the bibliobibuli. i know some who are constantly drunk on books, as others are drunk on whiskey or religion. they wander through this most diverting and stimulating of worlds in a haze, seeing nothing and hearing nothing. the change of life comes when you meet yourself at a crossroads and you decide whether to be honest or not before you die. but surely to tell these tall tales and others like them would be to speed the myth, the wicked lie, that the past is always tense and the future, perfect. and as archie knows, it's not like that. it's never been like that. the obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply. have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause in a roomful of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're all alone in the whole house? each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful, if you listen carefully. history is particularly important in throwing light on the source of our attitudes about sex because many of the assumptions we make are not necessarily scientific or rational but holdovers of past belief systems that are no longer held by modern society. maybe that's what bravery is, a stronger fear of not being brave. returning, i had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. all looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality; and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: i thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of travelers. i shall not die of a cold. i shall die of having lived. the happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. a bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. in memory, everything seems to happen to music. he who has a 'why' to live can bear almost any 'how'. the earth laughs in flowers. you know that place between sleep and awake? where you still remember dreaming? that's where i'll always think of you. there is always a little corner which remains a secret to the world - and is only known to those two. i glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all..

Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. it's kind of fun to do the impossible. when you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly. clothes make the man. naked people have little or no influence on society. there is a certain kind of kid who is so in love with words that she kisses the pictures of authors on the jackets of books. i was one. all i ever wanted was to be a writer. though this yearning now seems like aspiring to be a blacksmith in the age of the automobile, my childhood image of what a writer did bestowed superhuman powers on the profession. a writer sat privately at her desk and made public things happen. the power was godlike. the sense of accomplishment had to be the same. making words slant across the page was like making rain. flowers grew in ink. hurricanes and revolutions were stirred up by the sound of pen scratching paper. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. it was only the first of many occasions during those months that seemed to take place out of time, or in a historical moment i had yet to identify. this is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. do, or do not. there is no "try". simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. call it fate, call it luck, call it karma. i believe everything happens for a reason. the fear of death follows from the fear of life. a man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. what i couldn't say was that the real reason was so much deeper and harder and that we spend our lives deceiving ourselves of these real reasons, perhaps because when they are clear they are too painful. one can go on living when one is intoxicated by life. ordinary people believe only in the possible. extraordinary people visualize not what is possible or probable, but rather what is impossible. and by visualizing the impossible, they begin to see it as possible. the real voyage of discovery consists not of seeking new landscapes - but of having new eyes. what is to give light must endure burning. the primary and most beautiful of nature's qualities is motion. are there not chapters in everybody's life that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of history? everybody loves a hero / an image to create / the antithesis of everything / inside ourselves we hate / but you'd better close your eyes / when it's time for them to die / because you'd hate to think the life you'd built upon them was a lie.