#bohemia

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on. ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#bohemian #certain #elements #fault #found

My environment reflects the life I've led, the places I've visited and the people I've loved. ↗

— Virginia Nicholson

#living #experience

I was constantly being around artists and Bohemian types. ↗

— Spencer Dryden

#artists #being #bohemian #constantly #i

One night--it was on the twentieth of March, 1888--I was returning from a journey to a patient(for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door...I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problems. ↗

— Arthur Conan Doyle

#sherlock-holmes #attitude

I like to dress pretty basic during the day, but with a sophisticated bohemian spin, and sometimes a little rock chic. At night I like to go glamorous. ↗

— Alessandra Ambrosio

#bohemian #chic #day #dress #during

I realised the bohemian life was not for me. I would look around at my friends, living like starving artists, and wonder, 'Where's the art?' They weren't doing anything. And there was so much interesting stuff to do, so much fun to be had... maybe I could even quit renting. ↗

— P. J. O'Rourke

#around #art #artists #bohemian #could

It was my mom and I against the world. We lived in New York in this bohemian lifestyle where an extended group of artists and photographers were like my aunts and uncles. ↗

— Brooke Shields

#artists #aunts #bohemian #extended #group

I dreamt that I took William Burrough’s penis and tied it up with piano wire. I hung him like a Chagall painting…In the next part J.G. Ballard swam through streets of female urine. The girls read his book Crash and then mowed him down with their Volkswagen, crushing his chest slowly against a brick wall. As he screamed in agony larger than representation can accommodate, they referred to his text and had orgasms. Later, they jumped up and down yelling, ‘You’re not a hero. You’re not a hero. You’re not. You’re not. You’re not.’ “ “How do you analyze that part of the dream, Anna?” …”I guess I’m nervous about my birthday. ↗

— Sarah Schulman

#dreams #j-g-ballard #psychoanalysis #sexism #william-burroughs

Without sounding too pretentious, I was sort of a slave to the narrative. When the narrative cracks in, I have to go where it takes me. I had to go to the Bohemian Grove. It was the obvious end to the book. ↗

— Jon Ronson

#book #cracks #end #go #grove

They were all brilliant. They wrote books and painted pictures, and if they ever stopped talking, which I was sure they would never do, they planned to change the world. ↗

— Gloria Whelan

#bohemian #change-the-world #doing #talking #visonary