I think the trouble with artists or chefs who whine about criticism is that if you love the good reviews, you have to at least read the bad ones.
Jim HarrisonRead
How wonderful it was to love something without the compromise of language.
Interpretation
The quote expresses the profound beauty of experiencing love that transcends words.
Jim Harrison's quote reflects on the deep and often ineffable nature of love, suggesting that some feelings are so pure and genuine that they do not require verbal expression for their significance to be understood. It highlights the idea that love can exist in a state of purity, where emotional connection is felt deeply without the limitations or potential misunderstandings that language can impose.
In practice
This quote could be shared at a wedding to emphasize love's deeper meanings beyond words.
I think the trouble with artists or chefs who whine about criticism is that if you love the good reviews, you have to at least read the bad ones.
The only advice I can give to aspiring writers is don't do it unless you're willing to give your whole life to it. Red wine and garlic also helps.
We are delightfully trapped by our memories. I can't drink a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape Vieux Telegraphe without revisiting a hotel bistro in Luzerne, Switzerland, where I ate a large bowl of a peppery Basque baby goat stew. A sip and a bite. A bite and sip. Goose bumps come with the divine conjunction of food and wine.
Fiction writers tend to err either making people more than they are or less than they are. I'd rather err on the side of the former.
Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness. And they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy... or they become legend.
I work every morning, all morning, sometimes in the afternoons. Then sometimes I hunt in the afternoons - quail, doves, grouse up north - but just to stay alive, because writers die from their lifestyle but also from their lack of movement.
She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
Witch, do this for me, Find me a moon made of longing. Then cut it sliver thin, and having cut it, hang it high above my beloved's house, so that she may look up tonight and see it, and seeing it, sigh for me as I sigh for her, moon or no moon.
What kills love? Only this: Neglect. Not to see you when you stand before me. Not to think of you in the little things. Not to make the road wide for you, the table spread for you. To choose you out of habit not desire, to pass the flower seller without a thought. To leave the dishes unwashed, the bed unmade, to ignore you in the mornings, make use of you at night. To crave another while pecking your cheek. To say your name without hearing it, to assume it is mine to call.
One cannot give what he does not possess. To give love you must possess love. To love others you must love yourself.
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