Arthur Phillips (born April 23, 1969) is an American novelist. His books include Prague (2002), The Egyptologist (2004), Angelica (2007), The Song Is You (2009), and The Tragedy of Arthur (2011).
You deicde, and you make our night what you want. Brilliant and ours. Stupid and theirs.
It was so much easier to be alone, if one could find just the right location.
There are few things more pleasing than the contemplation of order and useful arrangement.
The truth is, anyone who puts so much of herself and her life into art as you do must naturally fear any failure in that art as a potential threat to your life. And so you protect your art more than you protect your health or the common forms of happiness the rest of us have. And you probably have this in common with every artist you admire.
Love is not sufficient. It never has been. Stories that claim otherwise are lies. There's always SOMETHING after happily ever after.
But music is, at the very minimum, inflammatory, exclusionary, divisive, encouraging of snobbery and solipsism.
He fell in love with Manhattan's skyline, like a first-time brothel guest falling for a seasoned professional. He mused over her reflections in the black East River at dusk, dawn, or darkest night, and each haloed light-in a tower or strung along the jeweled and sprawling spider legs of the Brooklyn Bridge's spans-hinted at some meaning, which could be understood only when made audible by music and encoded in lyrics.
How much of life could he spend aching? Aching is not a stable condition; it must resolve into something
The strangest thing. I came to the end of other people so quickly. Each new person was like a glass of water, and at the beginning I was parched, but then each glass tasted a little worse, the water was grittier, and by the end even the first sip was enough to make me gag, you know?
Sally Kohn
Sarah T. Bolton
Lee Corso
Ruslana Korshunova
Hugh Latimer
Aristophanes
Robin Morgan
Bill de Blasio
M. N. Roy
Leonard Peltier
Tahar Ben Jelloun
Mike Tyson