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When I'm in love, I wake up happy.
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The fire of love is drawn from the sky rather than the human mind.
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Death knocks at your door, and before you can tell him to come in, he is in the house with you.
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. . . a dirty exterior is a great enemy to beauty of all descriptions.
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A whole lot of us go through life assuming that we are basically right, basically all the time, about basically everything: about our political and intellectual convictions, our religious and moral beliefs, our assessments of other people, our memories, our grasp of facts. As absurd as it sounds when we stop to think about it, our steady state seems to be one of unconsciously assuming that we are very close to omniscient.
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If you are ambitious you can have a moment of glory but it will most likely be temporary. But talent always finds its way out.
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To be alive is a fine thing. It is the finest thing in the world, though hazardous. It is a unique thing. It happens only once in a lifetime. To be alive, to know consciously that you are alive, and to relish that knowledge -- this is a kind of magic. Or it may be a kind of madness, exhilarating but harmless.
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The unconscious mind writes poetry if it's left alone.
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Certainly Apple has improved enormously. At the beginning, the sampling rate was an issue for me, but a bigger argument was over digital rights, which I had.
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All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind.
