Most of us, most of the time, act within plays the lines of which were written long ago, the images of which require recognition, not invention.
Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.
Historical reality has two sides. One is made up of facts, events, material realities, and one of the ideas, images and dreams.
An author must gorge himself on ten thousand images to select the magical one that can define a piece of the world in a way one has never considered before.
One thinks of the failure of representation since 9/11, the proliferation of novels, the media glut, the surfeit of images that somehow slide too easily into a banal repertoire, commodified shock.
Penser, c'est réapprendre à voir, à être attentif, c'est diriger sa conscience, c'est faire de chaque idée et de chaque image, à la façon de Proust, un lieu privilégié
You project a confident image through good body posture.
Use proper posture to realize your professional image potential.
I looked at the stained-glass image of the lamb in the window above me, but that only reminded me that lambs are famous for being led to slaughter, or sometimes hanging out with lions in ill-advised relationships.
I never let myself yearn for Buckley, afraid he might see my image in a mirror or a bottle cap. Like everyone else I was trying to protect him.
Dreams are composed of many things, my son. Of images and hopes, of fears and memories. Memories of the past, and memories of the future...
There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such an unreal life. They take the images outside of them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself.
A vision flashed across Nick’s mind. It was the image of a lipstick kiss his wife left for him on the mirror that morning. It hung there like the single digit sum to the chalkboard-crammed equation of his life.
Maybe the devil in human beings isn't the reflection of the devil, perhaps the devil is only a reflection of the savagery and brutality of our kind. Maybe what we've done is create the devil in our own image
Here in this endless and gleaming wilderness I was removed farther than ever from the world of men -- And I never saw so close and so clearly The image in the mirror of my own soul.
He doesn’t let me argue further as he returns to his room. I pray for my sanity that he clothes himself, because the last thing I need is the image of Blake’s naked torso dripping in sweat.
Hooray! I finally finished making a new book cover. Now I just need to write the book. The cover is the image of a man hanging, so perhaps I’ll write a romance novel.
His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's egg.
Mall maintenance halls are creepy. Plain and white, with fluorescent lighting, they evoke images of serial killers, hockey masks nd bloody butcher knives. The figure standing at the end does not help matters.
The struggle to live up to an “ideal image” of who we should be in order to feel safe misdirects and depletes our energy.
I hate it when I'm reading a comic, and the dialogue looks like stickers stuck on top to explain what's going on. For me the best is when your eye goes in a certain point and moves through the composition and then springs out on the dialogue, or gets...
