Weather is a literary specialty, and no untrained hand can turn out a good article on it
Mark TwainRead
The easy part of being an artist is figuring out the message that everyone else is ready to hear. The hard part is waiting for the proper lull to make the announcement.
Interpretation
Being an artist involves both clarity of message and timing.
This quote by Mark Twain highlights the dual challenges faced by artists: the initial task of formulating a message that resonates with the audience and the far more daunting task of patiently waiting for the right moment to present that message. It underscores the importance of timing in communication and artistic expression, suggesting that even with a perfect message, it can fall flat if introduced at the wrong time.
In practice
In a discussion about artistic challenges at a gallery opening.
Weather is a literary specialty, and no untrained hand can turn out a good article on it
You can't reason with your heart; it has its own laws, and thumps about things which the intellect scorns.
To be good is noble; but to show others how to be good is nobler and no trouble.
Name the greatest of all inventors. Accident.
In Paris they just simply opened their eyes and stared when we spoke to them in French! We never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.
Some things you can't find out; but you will never know you can't by guessing and supposing: no, you have to be patient and go on experimenting until you find out that you can't find out.
One never knows what one is going to do. One starts a painting and then it becomes something quite different.
They want me to write differently. Certainly I could, but I must not. God has chosen me from thousands and given me, of all people, this talent. It is to Him that I must give account. How then would I stand there before Almighty God, if I followed the others and not Him?
Painting is but another word for feeling.
Every beauty which is seen here by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all are come.
At one point, I didn't care. Now I want as many people to hear my music as possible.
Dill was off again. Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies.
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