I was scripting for a series on the Arts programme which was shown very late on a Sunday evening, and I was sent off to get the low down on several up and coming musicians who would be featured each week. To the music world, they may have been up and...
Once a musician has enough ability to get into a top music school, the thing that distinguishes one performer from another is how hard he or she works. That's it. And what's more, the people at the very top don't work just harder or even much harder ...
Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are the artist’s materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feelings, the actor�...
It was the mutual study of the Spear and the significance of its legend and their strikingly opposite views about it which finally parted these inseperable friends -- the master musician (Wagner) and the cynnical philosopher (Nietzsche). A parting wh...
The poorest paid architect, engineer, general, author, sculptor, painter, lecturer, advocate, legislator, actor, preacher, singer is constructively in heaven when he is at work; and as for the musician with the fiddle-bow in his hand who sits in the ...
Seeing yourself in print is such an amazing concept: you can get so much attention without having to actually show up somewhere. While others who have something to say or who want to be effectual, like musicians or baseball players or politicians, ha...
I originally had opened the studio in New York to combine my two loves, music and design. And we created videos and packaging for many musicians that you know, and for even more that you've never heard of. As I realized, just like with many, many thi...
Still, I wonder if more women artists, musicians and writers aren't household names because we don't have enough faith in our own pursuits to give ourselves the time we desperately need to be transformed by a creative vision. Maybe that glass ceiling...
I have never been one for musicians. I know girls are supposed to go crazy for frontmen who close their eyes when they sing and nod their heads when the drums kick in, but I'm like Shania Twain with that stuff: That don't impress me much. I'll take w...
Sam: Daniel, I have a plan! Daniel: Thank the Lord! Tell me. Sam: Well, girls love musicians, don't they? Daniel: Uh-huh. Sam: Even the really weird ones get girlfriends. Daniel: That's right. Meatloaf definitely got laid at least once. For God's sak...
Wladyslaw Szpilman: You've got to give me something to do. Yehuda: You're an artist, Wladek. You do enough. Wladyslaw Szpilman: I want to help. I want to do something. Yehuda: You're too well known, Wladek. And you know what? You musicians don't make...
Margaret Lord: Are you one of the musicians? Macaulay Connor: No! Margaret Lord: Oh of course, you're Junius's friend. Only you're not. Do you have any violin strings? Macaulay Connor: [digs in his pocket] I have an aspirin. Will that work? Margaret ...
We didn't have lawyers and accountants. No one was watching out for our money. We'd go to the office and get money and go on our way. I was 19-20 years old then. I was stupid. I didn't know any better. We weren't getting our fair share of the money. ...
Respectfully, sir, the asteroid did not make you leave her. The asteroid is not making anyone do anything. It's just a big piece of rock floating through space. Anything anyone does remains their own decision.
Weber sandstone a billion years old. This rock was Precambrian, I read, a term like postmodern, suggesting that what it names is so mysterious as to require identification by what it isn’t.
He hesitated, remembering something Finnikin had said to him on their journey. That somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.
But then Froi looked back to where his work lay unfinished and it made him sad because there had been something about the touch of earth in his hands that made him feel worthwhile.
Which God is the forgiving one, exactly? Old Testament, where He got His rocks off by smiting? Or New Testament, once Our Heavenly Father got Prozac?
And then he'd tried to become an official Atheist and hadn't got the rock-hard self-satisfied strength of belief even for that.
Instead of Rock, Paper, Scissors, you could play Brick, Blanket, Action Fingers, in which brick cripples action fingers, blanket smothers brick and action fingers beats blanket.
The man on the rock had pitched five outs in the losing game, and had given up two runs on a single. But he’d inherited loaded bases. The story of his life. The story of all our lives.
