I was always interested in the arts as a child - drawing, painting, and piano - but acting became a favourite. I was a major theatre geek in high school - if I wasn't in the drama room at lunch rehearsing, I'd be in the art room finishing up some typ...
I literally left school and went straight into music via art college for a year, and I've been so involved in my job of writing songs that the more actively involved part became channeled into standing on the stage and saying things that way.
Doing my art came out of something very solitary and something that I had no intention of showing anybody, and yet once people saw pieces in my house, it became really clear that there was a great demand for my art.
I always imagined myself somehow as an electron around some atom, and you're just, like, bouncing around and spinning. There was a never-ending supply of places to go, people to see, things to do, and fitting it all in became kind of an art.
I became convinced that noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good.
The Biblical language was so deeply embedded in the great man's mind that it became his normal way of speaking.
He was a large, fleshy man, weighing at least two hundred pounds, and he quickly became a faithful representation of a quivering jelly mountain of fat.
She became his Ariadne, leading him through the labyrinth of books, stopping now and then to pass another one to him.
I quickly became aware that the phrase "it can only get better" could very quickly turn into "it could always be worse," because it was.
Adrian tipped my face up toward his and kissed me. Like always, the world around me stopped moving. No, the world became Adrian, only Adrian.
Here they [the Jaredites] became a flourishing nation; but, giving way in time to internal dissensions, they divided into factions, which warred with one another until the people were totally destroyed (p. 15).
Home was not the place where you were born but the place you created yourself, where you did not need to explain, where you finally became what you were.
Once outside the magic circle the writers became their lonely selves, pondering on poems, observing their fellow men ruthlessly, putting people they knew into novels; no wonder they were without friends.
The rich fop Francis of Assisi was bored all his life―until he fell in love with Christ and gave all his stuff away and became the troubadour of Lady Poverty.
It seemed strange to Kellan that the more people were crowded together, the less they were willing to acknowledge it; their interaction became a thing of unwelcome necessity and their gaze turned ever inward.
It started out as kind of a joke, and then it wasn't funny anymore because money became involved. Deep down, nothing about money is funny.
Innocence was gone from all our acts. Our habitual state of rebellion became a serious political crime.
Everybody liked better to conjecture how the thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the incompatible.
As soon as a friendship passed a certain point - some obscure and secret boundary - a woman quite automatically became overwhelmed by a raging compulsion to complicate things.
In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory.
She did not think it was true that women fell in love all at once, but rather, that they fell in love through repitition, just the way someone became brave.
