Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
We all need a meaning to our life.
I don't know how to make the critics happy!
Be careful of things like alcohol and drugs.
I knew the alphabet. Maybe I could be a writer.
Life was not longer something to endure, but to live.
Everything about it was wrong. Thats why it worked so good.
One of the things that fascinates me is the music of speech.
People in Germany are very, very responsive to the readings.
The responsibility of the artist is to transcend the human ego.
I'm always presenting myself with problems to solve as a writer.
As Lao Tzu says, "The Tao that can be named is not the true Tao".
All the energy of their frustration and fear going into their laughter.
But to believe that getting stuff is the purpose and aim of life is madness.
... I started to die 36 hours before I was born, so dying was a way of life for me.
My writing is inspired by just about everything, yet I am unaware of so much of the process.
Writing, like any art, is a continuing process of discovering the infinite possibilities of Life.
One of the things I have become aware of through the years is how much I love the people I write about.
It seems to me that what the artist sees is the simple and obvious that is invisible to everybody else.
However they may have felt when they left they were now committed, they had passed the point of no return.
The resistance and the degree of the resistance to the natural phenomenon of life causes tremendous suffering.
But you cant shut everyone out. I mean you have to have someone to love. . .someone to hold on to. . . someone--
No matter how beautiful the outside may be, the inside still has feelings and needs that just words don't fulfill.
An extraordinary writer....It is the vastness of Nick Tosches’ heart that makes it possible to reveal the darkness.
I think Mozart, like you, is an example of someone who has the gods moving through him, and his religion was creation.
Eventually we all have to accept full and total responsibility for our actions, everything we have done, and have not done.
For weeks Tyrone thought he was going to die any minute, and there were also times when he was afraid he wasnt going to die.
I suspect there will never be a requiem for a dream, simply because it will destroy us before we have the opportunity to mourn it's passing.
I'm focusing on writing the best story I can write. Which means I'm doing everything I can to give the artist within me as much power as possible.
I have to have a meaning in my life. If I roam around without some meaning in my life, I'm in deep and serious trouble. I can't, I just can't exist.
There are a lot of people in this country who really like my writing. And a lot of writers respect me. But the so-called establishment? They hate me.
I've always felt alienated. I realized that I've been terrified my entire life. So I can identify that fear which drives so many of the people that I write about.
...and he just sat back and stared at the tube, almost interested in what was happening, trying to find the ability to believe in that lie so he could believe the one within.
There's a sorrow and pain in everyone's life, but every now and then there's a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.
But I knew that someday I was going to die. And just before I died two things would happen; Number 1: I would regret my entire life. Number 2: I would want to live my life over again.
He didnt know what was defeating him, but he sensed it was something he could not cope with, something that was far beyond his power to control or even at this point in time comprehend.
I have rituals for cleaning out resentments, disappointments, heartbreak, depression and for work. One of the things I do is go over old stuff if I have been unable to write for a while.
thats why you cant be worried about the world. theyll just do you in anyway. you can't depend on them because sooner or later theyll turn on you or just disapear and leave you there alone.
Sometimes it seems to stand still. Like you’re in a bag and you can’t get out and somebody’s always telling you that it will get better with time and time just seems to stand still and laugh at you and your pain.
I don't know that I could really define love. I can't . . . again, it's like trying to define what this creative force is. It's beyond my ability to really define. If I can define it, then it's not it. We're right back to that thing again.
If love is what I've experienced, I can't separate it from other people. I can't separate creation, and I can't separate whatever this creative thing is, from it's creation. I don't believe that can be done. We're all part of this creative force.
I do believe this: That what we call love is always available to us. And of course I'm not just talking about passion. I'm talking about love where you just can't conceive that your life isn't perfect, that you can't conceive of wanting anything.
...and the night was comfortably warm as the soft filtered light continued to push the darkness into the shadows as they held each other and kissed and pushed each others darkness into the corner, believing in each others light, each others dream.
Sometimes we have the absolute certainty there's something inside us that's so hideous and monstrous that if we ever search it out we won't be able to stand looking at it. But it's when we're willing to come face to face with that demon that we face the angel.
I guess it could be said that the inspiration for 'Requiem for a Dream' is watching the American dream not only destroy so many lives in the U.S., but infect the rest of the world with its obsession with getting more, ignoring the deadly effect that has on the planet.
They luxuriated in the feeling of deep and all pervading satisfaction, a feeling of knowing absolutely that all was well with the world and them and that the world was not only their oyster it was also their linguine with clam sauce. Not only were all things possible, but all things were theirs.
The voice so filled with nostalgia that you could almost see the memories floating through the blue smoke, memories not only of music and joy and youth, but perhaps, of dreams. They listened to the music, each hearing it in his own way, feeling relaxed and a part of the music, a part of each other, and almost a part of the world.
I just don't seem to be capable of believing in evil as some separate, distinct power within itself. I guess I'm just not a Southern Baptist or a Fundamentalist. I just don't seem to be capable of believing in it myself, somehow. I don't . . . I can't conceive from my experience how this force of evil can exist without the force of love being right there.
When I stop doing the things that make me unhappy, I will experience the happiness that is that natural state of being. See, I don't think we were created with some pain and misery and whatever. I think we were created by whatever this thing is, when it extended itself, and, here we are. But I pile on so many misconceptions that I end up uncomfortable in my own skin.
There was a sky somewhere above the tops of the buildings, with stars and a moon and all the things there are in a sky, but they were content to think of the distant street lights as planets and stars. If the lights prevented you from seeing the heavens, then preform a little magic and change reality to fit the need. The street lights were now planets and stars and moon.
I think in a way the great irony or paradox about America is that it makes it so hard for the sensitive person, the artist, the impressionable person, the person whose raison d'etre is to incarnate the creative will, rather than to just make money, and yet that extreme difficulty that the culture poses for us has created some of the best artists in the last hundred years.