I asked if you was pleased.’ ‘Course I’m pleased! You think I’d be mad if I wasn’t pleased?’ ‘You don’t make a lick of sense,’ he says, but he is smiling now and he takes a step closer to me.
Poetry, like jazz, is one of those dazzling diamonds of creative industry that help human beings make sense out of the comedies and tragedies that contextualize our lives.
I feel this society somewhere has lost its sense of what art is. Art is expression. In expression, you need 100% full freedom and our freedom to express our art is seriously being fucked with. Fuck, the word 'fuck' has many connotations as does the w...
The pages aren't numbered, so I don't know whether I have the beginning or end or whether it's in sequence but these days I'm not really looking for continuity. All I'm after is something that makes sense to me.
Sex could be a gift of God, but when it becomes an obsession, it plunders all intelligence and people are driven to abominable acts to satisfy their lust. When passion is frustrated, people lose all good sense.
According to Hannah, real life just happens, whereas stories make sense. When you put real life in print, she says, you show it up for the pointless mess it really is.
It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write. But deeper into each and every piece, you no longer hesitate to call it work. It's passion. A poet's sense of lyrical accomplishment is then his f...
All great leaders find a sense of balance through their levels of reception. For instance, those who support a leader may soften him, those who ignore him may challenge him, and those who oppose him may stroke his ego.
I did not grow up in poverty. But I did grow up with a poor boy's sense of longing, in my case not for what my family had never had, but for what we had had and lost.
Now I know I’ll never be numb again. A mother is condemned to feel everything forever. And I’m finally afraid, condemned to fear everything forever. But that makes sense: feel someone else’s pain, feel someone else’s everything. And he’s my...
I paused for a moment, debating whether to turn and look what was happening. My senses told me Obo’s presence was still at my side, and turning my face into the barrel of a gun seemed like an ill-advised way to cap off this day of monumentally stup...
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...
The world has nothing to offer me, no single shred of interest. I'm a woman trapped on a balcony, watching a passing parade, a blur of noise and motion that eventually turns to a single point on the horizon, a gutter full of trampled and muddy cups, ...
I hated this love that I had for my family—love that demanded my time and energy, that sought to control my life down to every thought and action. I now realize that it was not love but an unhealthy attachment, born out of a need for security and a...
We are *all* we are, and all in a sense we care to dream we are. And for that matter, anything outlandish, bizarre, is a godsend in this rather stodgy life. It is after all just what the old boy said – it's only the impossible that's credible; what...
To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain; but to his satisfaction he realized that he had proved conclusively that if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sens...
She's fine," said Declan, defensive. "You're fine, right?" She gave him a look. "Peachy." "See? Both Alex and her astounding wit have made it here intact. Her sense of humour seems to be M.I.A, but I'm pretty sure that was a pre-existing condition.
We didn't have sense enough to take care of it. Now it's torn. And the artist is dead.
Tornadoes were, in out part of Central Illinois, the dimensionless point at which parallel lines met and whirled and blew up. They made no sense.
Today, may you be filled with an immense sense of inner peace, unity, joy & happiness.
I had an unfortunate habit of allowing my anger to blind me. An extremely unfortunate habit. Glate knew that, and he knew how to stop me from doing something stupid. He was my sense of reality in a world thrown off balance. But he wasn’t here now.
