* some views expressed in these quotations not neccesarily endorsed by the author of this file.
* for entertainment only - history is not an exact science - dates and quotes not guaranteed for accuracy.
Art is the objectification of feeling, and the subjectification of nature.
I gave up rock 'n' roll for the Rock of Ages. I used to be a glaring homosexual until God changed me.
When the moon is in the seventh house - and Jupiter aligns with Mars,
Then peace will guide the planets -- and love will steer the stars.
I'll walk where my own nature would be leading, It vexes me to choose another guide.
I seem to have an awful lot of people inside me. --Dame Edith Evans (1888-1976)
Art is the last thing I'm worried about when I write a song. I don't think it really matters. If you want to call it art, yeah, okay, you can call it what you like. As far as I'm concerned, "Art" is just short for "Arthur".
(William C. Waterhouse, Penn State)
There is one art, no more, no less: to do all things with artlessness.
The artist should be indifferent to praise and blame, since he is concerned with his work only in its relation to himself (...)
The artist produces for the liberation of his soul. (...) It is not for nothing that artists have called their works the children of their brains (...)
It is something like an organic thing that develops, not of course only in their brains, but in their heart, their nerves, (...) and that at last becomes so oppressive that they must rid themselves of it.
When this happens they enjoy a sense of liberation and for one delicious moment rest in peace. But unlike human mothers, they lose interest very soon in the child that is born. (...)
I was hanging out with this guy who was in a motorcycle club. (...) It was Sam Cooke singing "The Great Pretender" I looked at this white supremacist lowlife, with his hand on his heart and his eyes shut, swaying to that clear, black voice, and I thought, "I'll have some of that."
Wow! As much as anybody, Sam made me want to sing. He would just say "Sing, girl." And believe me, that was enough.
Fancy being remembered around the world for the invention of a mouse!
He had every social disease. . . . He was infested, and so was his hair. He hadn't taken a bath for months. Or combed his hair. I think it was not so much rock 'n' roll, and not so much the road, as it [was] that nobody was taking care of him.
Physicians and anatomy students must learn to think of cadavers as wholly unrelated to the people they once were.
... nine had always been a significant number for John. He was born on October 9 and so was his second son, Sean. His mother had lived at number 9; (...)
Brian Epstein had first heard the Beatles play on the ninth of the month, they had got their first record contract on the ninth and John had met Yoko on the ninth.
The number had cropped up in John's life in numerous other ways, so much so that he wrote three songs around it--"One After 909", "Revolution 9" and "#9 Dream."
Now he had died on the ninth--an astonishing coincidence by any reckoning.
Number 9, Number 9, Number 9.
Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late!
You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate.
There's a sociopath in each of us just waiting to miss the connection between an act and its consequences.
...one does not withdraw from the world because one hates it, but because one loves it so very much. It’s a paradox.