I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.
Truman CapoteRead
New York is a diamond iceberg floating in river water.
Interpretation
The quote describes New York as both precious and complex, reflecting its unique essence.
Truman Capote’s comparison of New York to a 'diamond iceberg floating in river water' highlights the city's multifaceted beauty and the raw, turbulent environment surrounding it. The 'diamond' suggests the city’s brilliance and value, while the 'iceberg' represents its hidden depth and struggles beneath the surface, illustrating how NYC can be both enchanting and challenging.
In practice
Using this quote to inspire artists at a gallery opening focused on urban landscapes.
I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.
All writing, all art, is an act of faith. If one tries to contribute to human understanding, how can that be called decadent? It's like saying a declaration of love is an act of decadence. Any work of art, provide it springs from a sincere motivation to further understanding between people, is an act of faith and therefore is an act of love.
No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.
I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.
The quietness of his tone italicized the malice of his reply.
You can't trust an artist that just makes good records.
The beauty and genius of a work of art may be reconceived, though its first material expression be destroyed; a vanished harmony may yet again inspire the composer; but when the last individual of a race of living things breathes no more, another heaven and another earth must pass before such a one can be again.
When you write, it’s like braiding your hair. Taking a handful of coarse unruly strands and attempting to bring them unity. Your fingers have still not perfected the task. Some of the braids are long, others are short. Some are thick, others are thin. Some are heavy. Others are light. Like the diverse women of your family. Those whose fables and metaphors, whose similes and soliloquies, whose diction and je ne sais quoi daily slip into your survival soup, by way of their fingers.
For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography.
Designing is not a profession but an attitude. Design has many connotations. It is the organization of materials and processes in the most productive way, in a harmonious balance of all elements necessary for a certain function. It is the intergration of technological, social, and economical requirements, biological necessities, and the psychological effects of materials, shape, color, volume and space. Thinking in relationships.
To stop the flow of music would be like the stopping of time itself, incredible and inconceivable.
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