#ali

The men have piled up in my past, have fallen trenchantly through my life, like an avalanche that doesn't mean to kill but is going to bury me alive just the same. ↗

— Elizabeth Wurtzel

#avalanche #bury #fallen #going #just

There has to be a cut-off somewhere between the freedom of expression and a graphically explicit free-for-all. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#artists #arts #arts-and-humanities #dignity #dignity-in-the-arts

Many people fail in their career, business and relationship, and others get stuck because of their inability to make quality decisions. ↗

— Nkem Mpamah

#decisions #decisions-inspirational #how-to-make-decision #quality-decision-making #why-people-fail

What people say realistic, may not necessarily the same as what we think. At the end we will know which one Is ourselves, which one is not. ↗

— Dee

#belief #dream #inspirational #realistic #yourself

I'm not full of malice, but I do dislike Neil Diamond a lot, and I'm sorry that I've done a Neil Diamond song. ↗

— Robert Wyatt

#dislike #done #full #i #i do

Poetry and art nourish the soul of the world with the flavor-filled substances of beauty, wisdom and truth. ↗

— Aberjhani

#beauty #famous-poets #life #philosophy #poetry

Goodness is nothing in the furnace of art. ↗

— Peter Shaffer

#drama #morality #art

One of the most brilliant Russian writers of the twentieth century, Yevgeny Zamyatin belongs to the tradition in Russian literature represented by Gogol, Leskov, Bely, Remizov, and, in certain aspects of their work, also by Babel and Bulgakov. It is a tradition, paradoxically, of experimenters and innovators. Perhaps the principal quality that unites them is their approach to reality and its uses in art - the refusal to be bound by literal fact, the interweaving of reality and fantasy, the transmutation of fact into poetry, often grotesque, oblique, playful, but always expressive of the writer's unique vision of life in his own, unique terms. ↗

— Mirra Ginsburg

#realism #russian-author #russian-literature #writers #writing

The heartbeat is an irregular bell tolling; the footprints create ammonite patterns in the snow; they spiral in serpentine undulations, toward a complicated centre of mass, forming a beautifully inscribed hieroglyph, the earth acting as papyrus. It’s all signs and symbols; reading the emotions of another is an art, and tonight she lacks the imagination needed in order to be creative. Bewitching to behold, wings tucked neatly into the back of a loose summer jacket; his bare feet, dusky and dusty, tumble languidly toward her, over the soft crumbling ground. Dawn finds her dreams more beautiful to inhabit than reality. To her it becomes more real than the bed sheets she’s pulling close to her chest. As he approaches, she continues to watch the invocation of her desire. Wherever he steps the snow flees, it’s as if spring flowers from the very tips of his toes. She holds her breath as he slips his hand into hers, leading her away from the top of the hill on which they are standing. They don’t follow the path, instead they tread boldly over willow roots, twigs and fern leaves. Looking upwards, in order to see the colour of the sky, Dawn crosses her fingers for a shade of blue. ↗

— Curtis Ackie

#dream #dreams #magic-realism #art

I looked on astounded as from his ordinary life he made his art. We were both ordinary men, he and I. Yet from the ordinary he created Legends--and I from Legends created only the ordinary! ↗

— Peter Shaffer

#artistic-substance #mozart #musical-history #salieri #art