Minuciosas Quotes & Sayings

In Jung's terms-that we noted previously-the work is the artist's own transference projection, and he knows that consciously and critically. Whatever he does he is stuck with himself, can't get securely outside and beyond himself. He is also stuck with the work of art itself. Like any material achievement it is visible, earthly, impermanent. No matter how great it is, it still pales in some ways next to the transcending majesty of nature; and so it is ambiguous, hardly a solid immortality symbol. In his greatest genius man is still mocked. No matter that historically art and psychosis have had such an intimate relationship, that the road to creativity passes so close to the madhouse and often detours or ends there. The artist and the madman are trapped by their own fabrications; they wallow in their own anality, in their protest that they really are something special in creation. — Ernest Becker

Unless we have a well-educated people, we're vulnerable on our national security. — Mark Hatfield

I do not have answers to all the problems, but for sure will work to find solutions to as many as I can. — Carlos Machado

There has to be a line, Kashmir," I said angrily. "A person can't do just anything for love."
He shrugged one shoulder. "I would."
"Yeah, well, you're a thief. Your relative morality is already suspect."
"Ah," he said then, standing. "Well. I'll leave the morality for those that like the taste of it. I always preferred bread. — Heidi Heilig

But Jace", Clary said. "Valentine taught him more than just fighting. He taught him languages, and how to play the piano"
"That was Jocelyn's influence." Sebastian said her name unwillingly, as if he hated the sound of it. "She thought Valentine ought to be able to talk about books, art, music ... not just killing things. He passed that on to Jace."
A wrought iron blue gate rose to their left. Sebastian ducked under it and beckoned Clary to follow him. She didn't have to duck but went after him, her hands stuffed into her pockets. "What about you?" she asked.
He held up his hands. They were unmistakably her mother's hands - dexterous, long-fingered, meant for holding a brush or a pen. "I learned to play the instruments of war, " he said, "and paint in blood. I am not like Jace. — Cassandra Clare

I know we just met and i know this is gonna sound crazy, but if i could fix it, i would. I'd do anything to never have to see you sad or worried again. — M. Leighton

The experience of all former ages had shown that of all human governments, democracy was the most unstable, fluctuating and short-lived. — John Quincy Adams

Gabriel pulled her over his body to lie on the bed beside him. His kisses pressed her down into the oblivion of the mattress as her hands explored his chest, his shoulders, his face.
"I want to lay my kill at your feet," he said, more growl than words, and held her tight by her hair as he marked her neck with his teeth.
She writhed against him. She wanted to bite him, she wanted to rip the flesh from his back, but most terrible of all, she didn't want him to stop. Her back arched, her body shattered, she howled. — Annette Curtis Klause

I think if you have a two-story office and you hire someone who's handicapped, it might be reasonable to let him have an office on the first floor rather than the government saying you have to have a $100,000 elevator. — Rand Paul

People who are against me attack me personally. They attack the way I look physically, they attack the way I dress, they attack everything but what I say. — Cindy Sheehan

Relax and take notes while I take tokes of the marijuana smoke — The Notorious B.I.G.

Within these premises, the only thing one can be is an impeccable mediator. One is not the player in this cosmic match of chess, one is simply a pawn on the chessboard. What decides everything is a conscious impersonal energy that sorcerers call intent or the Spirit. — Carlos Castaneda

Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face! — Sarojini Naidu

I think there's beauty in repetition. And that's part of my culture and African culture as well: repeated things, mantra. It's spiritual, it's meditation, it's Buddhism, it's praying, it's all these things. — Robert Glasper