#pain

It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it. ↗

— Steven Wright

#paint #world #humor

I have a to-do list and I have a farm I care for, and things I like to do for fun - going to movies and all that stuff. It's a painfully normal life! ↗

— Brad Paisley

#farm #fun #going #i #i care

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day. ↗

— Markus Zusak

#sadness #stoicism #imagination

I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#infidelity #love #pain #relationships #imagination

Self-inflicted pain has a calming effect; it clears the head, diminishes one's fascination with the ego, and most important, gives one the sense of having taken some real action against the everyday foolishness of the body and of the vagrant, willful, heedless imagination. ↗

— Valerie Martin

#pain #self-inflicted-pain #imagination

And I hide behind these books I read while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me with some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve. And I’m never real, it’s just a sketch of me. And everything I’ve made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time. ↗

— Conor Oberst

#art

...she imagines her body curled in the narrow monk's bed, knees to chin, her own irrefutable geography, but she sees the blood of her futile heart seeping out over her chest and arms and legs, flooding across the rough wooden floor, down the narrow wooden stairs and out into the old soil of the garden. No roses, no, she does not even ask to make roses, just dissolution; most any night she asks just for that. ↗

— Michelle Latiolais

#emptiness #grief #grieving #loss #lost-love

To reach the farthest chamber of Lascaux, it's likely a man had to snuff out his light, lower himself down a shaft with a rope made of twisted fibers, and then rekindle his lamp in the dark so as to draw the woolly rhinoceros, the half horse, and the raging bison there. A long spear transfixes that bison, and entrails pour from its side. Beneath its front hooves lies the one painted man in all of Lascaux: prone, spindly wounded, disguised behind a bird mask. And below him, until its discovery in 196o, lay a spoon-shaped lamp carved of red sandstone ... Hold it again as it once was held, and the animals will emerge out of darkness as you pass. Nothing stays still. Shadows nestle in the cavities; a flicker of light across pale protruding rock turns a hoof or raises a head. One shape recedes as another emerges, and everything lingers in the imagination. ↗

— Jane Brox

#light #imagination

Sorrow is humbling. I want my pain to be fabulous. I don't need my pain to be worse than anyone else's; I just want it to be strangely, uniquely mine. Art to someone else's breakdown. — Thea Hillman, "Dear Kath After" from the anthology Pills, Thrills, Chills, and Heartache ↗

— Clint Catalyst

#humility #michelle-tea #pain #sorrow #thea-hillman

I want to thank anyone who spends a part of their day creating, I don't care if it's a book, a film, a painting, a dance, a piece of theater, a piece of music - anybody who spends part of their day sharing their experience with us - I think this world would be unlivable without art and I thank you. ↗

— Steven Soderbergher

#book #creating #dance #experience #film