I know of no person or group that is taking nearly adequate advantage of the graphical potentialities of the computer.
creative people always suffer from depression because we're so super sensitive and special?
I've never seen any life transformation that didn't begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit.
You may return here once you have fully come to understand that you are always here.
Writing is not like dancing or modeling; it's not something where-if you missed it by age 19-you're finished. It's never too late. Your writing will only get better as you get older and wiser. If you write something beautiful and important, and the right person somehow discovers it, they will clear room for you on the bookshelves of the world-at any age. At least try.
The resting place of the mind is the heart. The only thing the mind hears all day is clanging bells and noise and argument, and all it wants is quietude. The only place the mind will ever find peace is inside the silence of the heart. That's where you need to go.
I decide every day that I love Creativity enough to accept that Fear will always come with it. And I talk to Fear all the time, speaking to it with love and respect, saying to it: “I know that you are Fear, and that your job is to be afraid. And you do your job really well! I will never ask you to leave me alone or to be silent, because you have a right to speak your own voice, and I know that you will never leave me alone or be silent, anyhow. But I need you to understand that I will always choose Creativity over you.
They were recorded without processed cheese. Listen to old '50s records. The style may be dated, but the recording isn't.
In fact - statistically, as you know - people have done polls, research, and at least 80 percent or more or working media are liberal Democrats if they are involved with any party and certainly liberal in their philosophy.
. . the Grand Ole Opry used to come on, and I used to watch that. They used to have some pretty heavy cats, heavy guitar players
Valek coalesced from the shadows and wrapped me in his long lean arms. I soaked in his musky smell, listening to his heart beat. Strong and steady. No indication that he had been sneaking around.