Theater publicly reveals the human condition through appealing to both intellect and emotion. Architecture, whether lowly or exalted, can do the same.
My position is that serious and good art has always existed to help, to serve, humanity. Not to indict. I don't see how art can be called art if its purpose is to frustrate humanity.
I think art is not an ornament or refinement at the fringes of human intelligence, I think it's at the center. It's at the core.
Nobody sane loves working in an office, It’s against human nature to be locked up in a cubicle all day long.
I’m just here to remind you that every human life is a bold and delicate projection of the eternal into the temporal.
Sex drives the world and sex in on every human mind, be it a prophet or be it a saint, history has full of evidences.
Because some things that seem unimportant now can change the course of human history -- and I am a student of human history.
In a world like this with no laws, no charter of human rights, it's the women who suffer. It's the women who learn what it is to be tough, not the men.
Scientific truth is universal, because it is only discovered by the human brain and not made by it, as art is.
The purposeful destruction of information is the essence of intelligent work.
Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?
Poetry, plays, novels, music, they are the cry of the human spirit trying to understand itself and make sense of our world.
...humans, in the day that has been the Earth, have been here for less than a minute. We’re a late-night piss in the toilet, that’s all we are.
A father’s only dream is to hear his daughter ask to kill some zombies. Go for it, sweetie. Make this old man proud.
It would be both an identical work of art only by virtue of its difference. The same but different, he suggested, like twins.
There’s no such thing as probability," she says, slowly, with minimal movement of her jaw. "Things turn out the way they do.
All life is preoccupied with death. Death is the only certain future. Yet in the face of reason, everyone holds out hope for the highly improbable.
The bacteria of resentment bred: distance turned to distrust; distrust turned to bitterness; bitterness to hate, which is, after all, a kind of grievous love
Who can say they saw a whole play or read a whole book? Each has their own experience, their own play, their own book
The silence was pregnant with noise, with muted fury, with questions the father found too disgusting to frame and with answers to which the son was incapable of giving voice.
The very fact that you can observe this thinking mind is proof that you are not this thinking mind.
