As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
William ShakespeareRead
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the complexity and richness of creativity, describing how ideas are formed and expressed.
In this quote by William Shakespeare, the speaker expresses the intricate and almost mysterious nature of creative thought. The use of vivid imagery like 'ventricle of memory' and 'womb of pia mater' suggests that creativity is deeply rooted in memory and thought processes, nourished and birthed in moments of inspiration. It implies that artistic expression is a spontaneous and abundant gift, brimming with diverse ideas and forms.
In practice
In a speech about art and creativity at a local gallery opening.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
Good poets borrow, great poets steal
I don't remember when exactly I read my first comic book, but I do remember exactly how liberated and subversive I felt as a result.
A man writes because he is tormented, because he doubts. He needs to constantly prove to himself and the others that he’s worth something. And if I know for sure that I’m a genius? Why write then? What the hell for?
I'm sad to see celluloid go, there's no doubt. But, you know, nitrate went, by the way, in 1971. If you ever saw a nitrate print of a silent film and then saw an acetate print, you'd see a big difference, but nobody remembers anymore. The acetate print is what we have. Maybe. Now it's digital.
While writing, I tend to repeat the same song, endlessly, for thousands of times. This helps me ignore any lyrics, and helps create a consistent mood for each book.
The pointes for girls, I always say, have to be like an elephant's trunk; strong and yet flexible and soft.
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