#her

You can practice against each other, but there's something about a game situation. ↗

— James Worthy

#against #each #game #other #practice

Teachers started recognizing me and praising me for being smart in science and that made me want to be even smarter in science! ↗

— Steve Wozniak

#being smart #even #made #me #praising

Crawford washed her hands a lot. She washed her arms all the way up past her elbows. She just couldn't get enough done in that direction. She was compulsive about being clean, clean, clean! ↗

— Fay Wray

#arms #being #clean #compulsive #crawford

For the purposes of the play, it was perfect to be able to use that and the stresses and strains that there were. At the end of the play, the mother realizes the terrible things she had done. ↗

— Fay Wray

#done #end #had #mother #perfect

Juan Tripp was a friend. Good name for an airline man, huh? Juan Tripp after another? ↗

— Fay Wray

#airline #another #friend #good #huh

For all the pain you suffered, my mama. For all the torment of your past and future years, my mama. For all the anguish this picture of pain will cause you. For the unspeakable mystery that brings good fathers and sons into the world and lets a mother watch them tear at each other’s throats. For the Master of the Universe, whose suffering world I do not comprehend. For dreams of horror, for nights of waiting, for memories of death, for the love I have for you, for all the things I remember, and for all the things I should remember but have forgotten, for all these I created this painting—an observant Jew working on a crucifixion because there was no aesthetic mold in his own religious tradition into which he could pour a painting of ultimate anguish and torment. ↗

— Chaim Potok

#asher-lev #hasidic #hasidic-judaism #jew #jewish

The artist and the mother are vehicles, not originators. They don't create the new life, they only bear it. This is why birth is such a humbling experience. The new mom weeps in awe at the little miracle in her arms. She knows it came out of her but not from her, through her but not of her. ↗

— Steven Pressfield

#motherhood #writing #art

This man, who for twenty-five years has been reading and writing about art, and in all that time has never understood anything about art, has for twenty-five years been hashing over other people's ideas about realism, naturalism and all that nonsense; for twenty-five years he has been reading and writing about what intelligent people already know and about what stupid people don't want to know--which means that for twenty-five years he's been taking nothing and making nothing out of it. And with it all, what conceit! What pretension! ↗

— Anton Chekhov

#art

You can't know how much a mother loves. ↗

— Jessica Fortunato

#loss #love #mom #mother #love

Wonderful art can spring from misery,I'm the last person to deny that.I'd go even further:the best works of art of all time are probably stemmed from the deep human sorrow or hellish frustration,the death of a loved one or a divorce and yes:jealousy.Heartache and impotence as the man-spring for making the unverifiable verifiable and for giving it face.How romantic,beautiful and especially useful pain and misery can be. ↗

— Esther Verhoef

#close-up #esther-verhoef #life #pain #art