Best 26 quotes of Maira Kalman on MyQuotes

Every Monday morning is new hope.

Everyone I know is looking for solace, hope and a tasty snack.

I have many questions, but no patience to think them through.

I like Thomas Jefferson, though he intimidated me. I thought he would have been very tough to be around. I don't know if he had such a sense of humor.

I live in a small world of gouache and brush and pen and ink. I'd like to explore the world of multiples - etching and prints.

In any work you do, you can be profound one minute, and then you be superficial the next, and you can be smart and insightful and then insipid. There can be room for all that.

I said, 'Well, how much space do I have?' And they said, 'Well, you know, it's the Internet.'

I still do have the little lunch bag that my mother made out of a towel and embroidered with my name on it for when I went to kindergarten.

I tell you these stories because these things happen to everyone. It's not about being starched or polished or cute or polite. It's about having ears that stick out, about breaking yet another glass. It's about seeing something for the first time and making a million mistakes and not ever getting completely discouraged.

It's almost impossible to reconcile the realities of how one feels during the day, hour by hour. But I approach things not cynically.

Michael Pollan is a champion. In all ways. A man of great integrity, humor, and common sense and kindness.

My dream is to walk around the world. A smallish backpack, all essentials neatly in place. A camera. A notebook. A traveling paint set. A hat. Good shoes. A nice pleated (green?) skirt for the occasional seaside hotel afternoon dance.

My workspace is defined by books, ephemera, quiet and light. I don't have a computer, telephone or a fax machine there.

My short attention span has allowed me a life of diversity in work and place.

My sister is an artist and an interior designer. She went to high school for art. I went to high school for music.

Soon enough it will be me struggling (valiantly?) to walk - lugging my stuff around. How are we all so brave as to take step after step? Day after day? How are we so optimistic, so careful not to trip and yet do trip, and then get up and say O.K. Why do I feel so sorry for everyone and so proud?

The book. Calming object. Held in the hand.

The most inspiring objects are books. I have about 5,000 volumes in my home library. It's an unending source of visuals and ideas.

The tears are invisible. I'm in a complete state of panic before I begin something because I'm sure that it's going to be a complete disaster. I'm going to do a worse job than anybody could ever imagine anybody doing on the planet earth.

Washing dishes is the anecdote to confusion. I know that for a fact.

We could speak about the meaning of life vis-a-vis non-consequential/deontological theories, apodictic transformation schemata, the incoherence of exemplification, metaphysical realism, Cartesian interactive dualism, revised non reductive dualism, postmodernist grammatology and dicey dichotomies. But we would still be left with Nietzsche's preposterous mustache which instills great anguish and skepticism in the brain, which leads (as it did in his case) to utter madness. I suggest we go to Paris instead.

What protects you in this world from sadness and from the loss of an ability to do something? ... Work and love.

Wonderful things happen when your brain is empty.

Flowers lead to books, which lead to thinking and not thinking and then more flowers and music, music. Then many more flowers and many more books.

I read obituaries first thing in the morning. With a cup of coffee. This is NOT MORBID. Just epic. Maybe it's a way of trying to figure out, before the day begins, what is important. And I am curious about all the little things that make up life. Little?

Useless and precious objects. Taking up space. Taking up time.