Colin Mccahon Quotes & Sayings

My days, my years, my life has seen up and downs, lights and darknesses. If I wrote only and continually of the 'light' and never mentioned the other, then as an artist, I would be a liar. — Charles Bukowski

You talk of beauty, love, laughter and life like a precious memory. As if the sunshine of love and laughter shall never flow into your life again. You make it sound like your present and future shall promise you nothing but safety and comfort in a sort of dead, dull way. What killed the spirit of madness, the spark of adventure and the sense of delicious fun ? Your aliveness ? Is this what it is to get old ? — Srividya Srinivasan

For a second, my hand touched yours, but that second is gone, and cannot be seen, heard or felt ever again. This second is gone, too, the moment in which I spoke by your side. It is dead. Let it die. — Claire North

The product has to work. It has to be a good product. An enormous number of them are all hype with no value at all. People get into them because they want to make a lot of quick, easy money. — Brian Tracy

UR LOCAL's under construction. Better watch out, traffic fines double. — Stephen King

Or do you like being frightened?"

Hugh, though generally intelligent, is dense in certain ways; this is one of them.

"Why, of course, I like being frightened," I said. "I want to be made to creep and creep and creep. Fear is the most absorbing and luxurious of emotions. One forgets all else if one is afraid. — E.F. Benson

Life develops, changes, is in motion. The forms of literature are not. — Karl Ove Knausgaard

Talent is a gift which God has given us secretly, and which we reveal without perceiving it. — Montesquieu

If I had to choose a religion, the sun as the universal giver of life would be my god. — Napoleon Bonaparte

The other thing that I love too is the enthusiasm of the QVC customer. She loves fashion, she loves looking great, and she loves discovering something new. — Brad Goreski

He suffered greatly from being shut up among all these people whose stupidity and absurdities wounded him all the more cruelly since, being ignorant of his love, incapable, had they known of it, of taking any interest, or of doing more than smile at it as at some childish joke, or deplore it as an act of insanity, they made it appear to him in the aspect of a subjective state which existed for himself alone, whose reality there was nothing external to confirm; he suffered overwhelmingly, to the point at which even the sound of the instruments made him want to cry, from having to prolong his exile in this place to which Odette would never come, in which no one, nothing was aware of her existence, from which she was entirely absent. — Marcel Proust